Rock Sugar
by Peki2012
Summary: "As the Muggles say: revenge is a dish best served sweet." - Ginny Weasley's life hasn't turned out quite the way she planned; neither has Draco Malfoy's. When they were forced to work together, chaos seemed inevitable, but no one expected a new threat at Hogwarts to put children at risk. Can they work as a team? Canon compliant through Deathly Hallows except for the epilogue.
1. Chapter 1

I haven't posted here for ages, but I've been working on this story and wanted to make it more widely accessible. It's fun rediscovering Ginny/Draco. I will update when I can. Until then, all comments are appreciated. Enjoy!

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Summer arrived early that year, chasing away the chilly fog that lingered between the mountains after the last furious April storms. The sun dawned brightly over Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on a beautiful Saturday morning, a cheerful backdrop to the ever-same chaos that was the last few weeks of term.

"_Finite_!"

"But, Professor...!"

_Someone_, Ginny thought with rising aggravation, needed to be the disciplinarian: the food fight between the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables was about to escalate, and the colleague in charge was clearly too occupied pretending to be absorbed in the Daily Prophet to do anything about it.

She ducked out from under the cold cut meat that flapped feebly in mid-air, glaring at the students left and right. A sauce boat spun past her head on its way back to its proper place in a heavy rain of gravy droplets. Her wand held up like an umbrella to shield herself, Ginny fixed her pointed stare at the teachers' table at the back of the hall.

Professor Draco Malfoy looked up, smirked at the mayhem around him with devilish satisfaction, and began to butter some toast to go with whatever food might be coming down on them next.

Ginny glared determinedly. Beautiful days at Hogwarts were never just that, lest the castle's inhabitants become complacent; and trouble was no less troublesome if it came in a pretty package. Quite the opposite, really.

"Told you," came a gleeful whisper from the left. "Professor Weasley fancies him."

Ginny didn't know if she was more offended at the assertion or the shoddy muffling spell. Forget the teenage boys and their meat fork slingshots; it was the school gossip that got to you, every time.

'Rich,' was nothing but the truth. 'Handsome,' she could grudgingly concede, as well as 'hot,' considering the girls were impressionable seventh years. But any opinions beyond that earned Thusnelda Brown a swift "Ten points from Slytherin."

"But why, Professor?" The girl pouted prettily, tugging at the shiny green velvet bow that was affixed to her equally shiny blonde head.

Ginny sort of wished the breadcrumb tornado would make it to the girls' end of the table once in a while. "For talking with your mouth full." She got out of the way of the inevitable show of teenage virility when she saw an avalanche of bread rolls begin to roll down the length of the Gryffindor table.

At the teachers' breakfast table, Malfoy was already through the first pot of tea and the Quidditch pages of Ginny's subscription to the morning paper, which the owl always, miraculously, delivered to him instead. She cleared her throat, and Malfoy flipped down the top of the newspaper to allow her to feel the full force of his smirk.

Ginny allowed herself a blissful moment of daydreaming about Malfoy's face meeting his plate of eggs, sunny side up.

"She fancies him too," Thusnelda stage-whispered.

"Professor Weasley," Malfoy smirked, "You missed the eruption of the baked bean volcano. It was glorious."

Ginny reached out to pluck a bean from Malfoy's hair, which fell into his face, artfully dishevelled. He must've taken his broom for a flight before breakfast. In spite of herself, she smiled. "Pity."

"Kids these days. What can you do." He pushed out a chair for her with his foot. "They haven't been taught to behave like we were."

At the other end of the table, headmistress McGonagall coughed.

Malfoy surveyed the hall before them, where a Slytherin third-year had just sent the remains of his kippers flying at the Gryffindors with the help of a well-practiced acceleration charm. Bits of fish exploded all over the other house's table. "Poole," Malfoy called out to the boy, who grinned at him, unrepentant, "excellent charmwork. Five points to Slytherin."

"Five points from Slytherin for making a mess," Ginny countered. She poured herself some tea, then flicked her wand at the sugar pot, which began to empty itself into her cup.

"Spoilsport." Malfoy turned his attention back on her, studying the bags under her eyes with interest. "You're late this morning."

Ginny suppressed a yawn. "Grading all that homework took half the night, thanks for asking."

"And a Friday night too. No wonder you look so haggard and miserable." Having to swallow the first insult with her morning tea was one of the more reliable routines on Hogwarts mornings. "Pathetic, Weasley. Here, have the last muffin." He Accioed it out of the bread basket to disappointed looks from Hagrid.

Ginny sent Hagrid an apologetic glance, but stuffed half the muffin into her mouth. It was a little dry and tasted stale, but dealing with Slytherins on an empty stomach only resulted in ulcers. "You don't even know the meaning of 'work', _Professor_ Malfoy, so shut it."

"Ah, Ginny," he smirked, "I know I raised the bar when I taught Defence last year. It's all right; no one expected you to keep up."

"Thanks to your teaching methods, I'm still tutoring those fifth years after hours so they're ready in time for their OWLs. It's your mess, you should sort it out." Tragically, they had a few more weeks left in their rotation, and so Ginny was stuck with end-of-term papers and exam preparations and rebellious students who didn't hand in their homework on time, while he spent his days doing the job that should have been hers alone.

"You're not a natural born teacher, such as I," he said grandly. "But whenever I teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, it makes the parents nervous and they owl the Headmistress. You know how she hates that."

The sugar pot hopped off across the table, now empty. Ginny took a sip of tea. Too sweet. She set it down in the saucer with a clatter. "And whose fault is that," she said in an undertone.

"Not mine." Malfoy emptied out her cup over the side of the table for one of the house elves to clean up, then poured her a new one from his own, precious teapot that he'd brought from his _ancestral home_.

She took the cup all too gratefully. "You're very cheerful this morning."

"It only appears that way to you because you're so unpleasant. No manners; but what else is new." He drew a deep breath through his long nose as if to catch the sweet smell of triumph. "Come now, Weasley. It's a beautiful morning, the summer holidays are close, there is no way your Gryffindors can beat my Slytherins to the Quidditch Cup anymore-"

"Don't count on it," Ginny protested. "I still think Johnny Jones taking that Bludger to the head was a foul-"

He waved his hand at her like she was an annoying fly buzzing around his head. "My work for this year is done."

If there was anything more annoying than Malfoy in a foul mood, it was Malfoy in high spirits: he wore happiness too well, like an expensive tailored suit that he flaunted shamelessly for all the world to envy. He cocked his head, his fair hair glinting in the fractured light of the morning sun, and smiled at her in the unsettling manner of a crocodile baring its teeth for the kill. "What did Thusnelda do to make you take points off Slytherin?"

"None of your business," Ginny said sweetly.

Grinning, he leaned forward, crowding her over her breakfast plate. "I'm Slytherin Head of House."

He was possibly the only person in Britain who would've claimed that title proudly. There was no one else, Ginny reminded herself for the millionth time. There _was no one else_. The children needed them to function as a unit, to demonstrate house unity and friendship-

"And you do fancy me, so taking those points was entirely unfair."

Sod house unity. "You wish," she coughed, almost choking on muffin crumbs.

"Hmm." Malfoy looked mildly scandalized at the display of bad manners. "Don't flatter yourself, Weasley."

Ginny coughed out a rude reply, her face beginning to glow red. The Slytherin girls eyed them with interest. Ginny glared at Malfoy, wishing her looks could've caused him to burst into flame, but no matter how hard she tried, she hadn't been able to channel magic through her eyes. Yet.

For once, Malfoy gave up while he was ahead, and so Ginny couldn't get in the last word. "D'you want to get going? I have better things to do than wait around for you."

"You do?" Dervish and Banges had owled about the equipment they had ordered to replace the things that regularly got broken during Defence classes, but there was no rush. Hogsmeade weekends were a rare chance to enjoy some peace and quiet in the castle. She Accioed an apple from across the table.

He intercepted it with the practiced ease of one who played Quidditch often. "I hear the new sweet shop in town has a nice café. I'm partial to the occasional bit of lard cake."

Her almost-empty stomach flipped unpleasantly. "That sounds disgusting."

"You don't know what you're talking about," he said. "If you're nice, I might be persuaded to take you along and show you."

She sighed. Sometimes, she really didn't know why she put up with him. Maybe it was the tea. His tea was good. "Malfoy, the last time we-"

"Oh, fine." He swung away from her to tip his chair back, braced one foot against the edge of the table to dark looks from McGonagall and took a bite of her apple. "It's just that I know how pathetic your social life really is. That fiasco with Dean Thomas, _again_? Excuse me for trying to help."

"Out of the goodness of your heart?" Over the rim of her cup, she studied his face, all sharp angles against the light of the morning sun. He'd made allowances for the good weather and abandoned the black Professor Snape tribute robes that made him look so sickly. He was pale in his forest green cashmere jumper, but his good cheer brightened up his face in spite of the airs he liked to put on.

"That's right."

"Well," Ginny said, "you could help me with a few things-"

He leered playfully. "I'm listening?"

She ignored him as best as she could. Maybe one day, that would actually work. "You could take over those extra hours of remedial Defence."

Malfoy's face scrunched up like a little boy's. "They don't pay me enough to take on extra hours."

"Is money really an object?" she asked wearily.

"Actually..." His grin was back, wide and mocking. "No."

"So will you help the fifth years with their jinxes, or would you rather pick up the slack next term?"

He considered this at length while Ginny sneaked a second cup of tea from his teapot. The bloody thing twisted its snout into a knot in protest of her handling it, but a little forceful shaking sorted it out. With a splutter, tea gushed out and sloshed over the rim of her cup. She cursed quietly.

"I can tell you need my help," Malfoy said, watching her Scourgify the table cloth. "Fine. Are you still on the defensive jinxes?"

"Most of them have moved on to counter spells, but some are still behind on the basics. I was thinking we could start trying nonverbal defence..."

They talked lesson plans over the last cup of tea until the house elves appeared to clear away the remainder of the students' breakfast. "Oh, is that the time?" Ginny glanced at Malfoy's silver pocketwatch. "We should get going."

"I've been saying that." He rose, his teapot clutched under his arm. "Let me get my coat."

"It's too warm out for a coat."

"Just because you have no style does not mean I'll be seen out and about half-dressed," he informed her loftily. "I'll meet you in the front hall in five minutes."

Ginny watched him stride off, shaking her head.

The front hall was abandoned, most of the students having left for Hogsmeade already. The large doors were thrown open to let in a balmy breeze. Ginny stood in the door for a minute, breathing deeply, enjoying the air and the sunshine that filtered into the cracks of the ancient castle walls and chased away the shadows.

A small group of Slytherin third-years came up from the dungeons and crossed the hall. The students stuck closely together, giggling among themselves as they hurried past her, but a flash of bright blue in their midst caught Ginny's eye. She looked closer; the blue had vanished, but she noticed a small boy among the taller students. His face was unrecognizable, but then, it _would_ be.

"Teddy?"

The boy winced, but kept walking with his friends.

"Teddy Lupin!" Ginny hollered across the courtyard.

The Slytherins scattered, laughing, leaving the smaller boy lagging behind.

Ginny caught up with him halfway down to the gate. "What are you doing?"

"Going to Hogsmeade, Professor," the boy said blithely, but the nervous squeak of his voice gave him away. He was of average height and size, his hair a nondescript brown and his features as plain as could be. Ginny was impressed: Teddy must have been practising his transformations.

She put her hands on her hips, giving the boy a stern look that would've done her mother proud. "You know only third-year students and older are allowed Hogsmeade visits, Teddy."

"Congratulations, Weasley. Give it a few years and you'll _be_ McGonagall."

Teddy Lupin's face brightened along with his hair, which was suddenly a pale shade of blond. Kid knew his audience, Ginny thought, and turned to glare at Malfoy.

"Stop undermining my authority," she hissed.

Malfoy ignored her blissfully. "What's going on? Ted, is that you?"

So caught, Teddy dropped the disguise completely. His features rearranged themselves, shrunk and twisted until his real face appeared under his unkempt blond fringe, all wide brown eyes which he turned imploringly on Malfoy. "Dra... Professor Malfoy, everyone is going into Hogsmeade-"

"Everyone who is a third-year or older and has permission from a guardian." Malfoy might have been willing to overlook the rules sometimes, especially for his Slytherins, but crossing Teddy's grandmother was a different matter. He bent slightly so he could look into Teddy's eyes. "Now that Professor Weasley has caught you, I can't just pretend I didn't see you leave."

Ginny harrumphed. When the boy pulled a sullen face like he did then, he looked a tiny bit like Malfoy. She wondered if that was deliberate or actual family resemblance.

"Your grandmother would kill me if I let you go and something happened to you," Malfoy told Teddy in a quiet, conspiratorial voice.

"You're scared of grandmum?" Teddy seemed to find this funny: his hair changed to his preferred shade of bright blue, which had caught Ginny's eye in the first place.

"Of course," Malfoy said. "Only Gryffindors pick battles they can't win. Run along, Ted. Off to the common room."

The boy looked so dejected at the ruined plan that Ginny found herself softening. "Maybe you can get special permission for a trip to Hogsmeade when Harry visits next week." She made a mental note to owl Harry later. "Now run along, you heard Ma-, Professor Malfoy," she tacked on when she saw Malfoy's appalled face. Someone had to be mature and stop giving the students the impression that their teachers were constantly bickering.

"Thank you, Professor Weasley!" Teddy looked cheered as he scampered off to the dungeons.

Ginny chuckled. "That boy will give us many a headache yet."

"Tell me about it," Malfoy said with an air of pride. "He's a big hit in the common room. Two days ago, I caught him impersonating Flitwick. Merlin help us when he learns to transform himself to adult size."

Ginny was not the only one who would have liked to see the boy sorted into Gryffindor so she could watch over him, but she supposed there was an upside to Teddy going into Slytherin: it had given Malfoy an opportunity to bond with his young cousin that he might not otherwise have sought. "So you two are getting on?"

He shrugged as if he didn't care one way or another, which was ridiculous because Malfoy was incapable of feeling indifferent about anything. "He's one of my own. Even if Mrs Tonks wishes that he wasn't."

High praise indeed. Ginny smiled.

"I had almost managed to forget that Potter will be gracing us with his company." Malfoy sighed comically. Harry was coming in for a special lecture on Defence Against the Dark Arts as part of the newly-established partnership between the Auror office and Hogwarts, much to the delight of many of the students, who were looking forward to the celebrity visit if only for the deviation from the usual routine. Not everyone shared in the excitement, though. "I'm surprised he made time in his busy schedule of running around, playing hero-"

"Jealous?" she asked sweetly.

He snorted; she wouldn't be surprised to see him spewing fire, one of these days, like a proper dragon. "Not me. Who'd want to be an Auror, anyway? I'm an _educator_. A priest in the temple of knowledge. A keeper of the sacred grail of wisdom. The guiding light to the future of Britain's finest-"

She laughed. He _would _enjoy having a ready-made audience of impressionable youngsters. "Don't forget pain in my arse."

"Ungrateful wench," he said. "You couldn't teach here without me."

"And vice versa," she reminded him.

"Touché." He had a bright, contagious smile when he bothered to show it. "I suppose you're not _entirely_ useless. And you actually managed to build a halfway decent Quidditch team, these past few years. Not as good as Slytherin, of course, but. Great season."

"Oh, you think?" It was stupid to play coy with him; he'd pick right up on it. Ginny had long suspected that his charming moments were all part of a cunning plan to lull her into a false sense of security while he thought of the best way to cheat her out of a job or, possibly, her last nerve.

No one had really had a plan for after the war: none of them had really expected to survive. But she'd been sixteen and hopeful; she'd had ideas. Going back to Hogwarts hadn't been one of them, but she'd be damned if she let Malfoy show her up.

Still, his compliments, though cloaked in mockery, were rare. It was harder to resist his good cheer than she liked; but then again, she'd been around him long enough to know that Malfoy's ideas of fun usually led to really dreadful hangovers.

"We make a pretty good team," Malfoy smirked, startling her from her thoughts. "I couldn't be the cool teacher without you to compare myself to."

"No one calls you the 'cool teacher'," she scoffed.

"How would you know?" He flounced through the gate, past a gaggle of girls who stuck their heads together and giggled. Malfoy tossed his hair for effect, turning to look smugly at Ginny.

"Your mother send you your special shampoo again?" she sighed. "Bewitching Blonde, lightens and brightens-"

"Envy is an ugly sentiment, Weasley," he smirked.

"Oh, please. You're losing your hair, anyway."

He turned his nose up, sniffing indignantly at the air. "I am not!"

Grinning, Ginny reached up high to smooth back his hair, but he darted out from under her hands, the corners of his mouth curling in anticipation of the next insult.

"_If_ I've lost hair, it's because I've torn it out trying to deal with you." He shook his head so his hair fell in his face again.

She glanced up to meet his bright, amused eyes, and couldn't help smiling. "Good thing too," she told him, tugging at the sleeve of his inevitable coat to pull him along down the road to Hogsmeade, away from the giggling students. "Without your hair, you'll look less like your father when you get older."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment? Ah." For a moment, his gaze seemed to slip past her into the middle distance, and Ginny didn't have the shadow of a doubt he was drawing up an unflattering comparison between her and her mother. She waited for it with a sense of inevitability, but then Malfoy just smiled in that unsettling way of his that made her stomach flip. "Well. You are right, my best years are ahead of me. Malfoys age like a fine potion."

"They become more deadly?" she guessed.

"That too."

She had to laugh. It was too beautiful a day to be tired. The sun was warm on her skin as they strode through the gates and onwards to the village, and the air tasted sweet, of fresh grass and green leaves, a promise of summer. They climbed down the rocky path to the foot of the hill, where it broadened and became a sloping road that led into Hogsmeade.

The village had come alive under the beautiful weather. The little thatched houses gleamed with new coats of paint, all their windows thrown wide to let in the light like flowers opened to the sun. The main street was swarming with students and villagers, who crowded in front of the shops' window displays or stopped in the middle of the road for a chat. Ginny walked on purposefully; Dervish and Banges was the last shop down the road.

"And what have we here." Malfoy had lagged behind, looking around the bustling high street. He caught up with her now, long legs matching her stride easily, and jerked his chin towards a newly decorated shop window. A bright pink awning with gilded letters bore the shop's name: 'The Magical Bonbonnière'. China teapots of all sizes were displayed in the window, as well as an assortment of candy in tall glass jars and several enormous cakes, piled high with layers upon layers of cream. A delicious smell wafted through the open door.

It was a pity, really, that Honeydukes was right across the street: the patron at the Bonbonnière was wiping down the counter sadly, all alone, while the customers frequented the established shop. Ginny felt her stomach rumbling. "Business before pleasure, Malfoy."

"I've always thought that was a stupid principle," he said. "I don't want to be doing business that isn't also pleasurable."

"That's because you're five years old inside," she shrugged, "And a Slytherin too."

He grinned at her. "It's a good way to get by."

Ginny was sceptical; there was something deeply unsettling about the insights she'd had into The Universe According To Malfoy on the late nights they'd sat together, grading papers with a little liquid helper courtesy of Professor Singh, the new Potions master. After two or three glasses of liqueur, and hours of Malfoy's crazy rambling, the world tended to shift ever so slightly on its axis until Ginny felt off-balance and unsure of everything.

She didn't need any of that today. Or ever. "What _do_ you want to do first, then?"

"Take a cup of tea and a biscuit," he said immediately, strolling up to the window of the new shop. Inside, the owner looked up hopefully.

Ginny shook her head, wondering if he really meant for them to go sit in the tidy little café together as if they were civilised people. It seemed like a new recipe for disaster. "No, thanks."

He turned to smirk at her. "Who said you were invited?"

She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him. "You did, at breakfast."

"Really? I don't recall."

How he'd made it so _she_ was fishing for an invite, she had no idea. Ginny released a long-suffering sigh before the pressure that was building inside could make her head explode. "Like I said, I wasn't interested anyhow." She marched off.

Malfoy fell into step beside her again. "And why not?"

The constant back-and-forth of him changing his mind was enough to give anyone whiplash. "Are you kidding?"

"Oh, come on." He gave her a sly look. "It's not like I asked you to go to Madam Puddifoot's together."

She imagined them sitting at Madam Puddifoot's among snogging student couples and shuddered. "Good. I'd rather kill myself."

"Charming, Weasley. I'm sure I don't know why you were so popular at school." Malfoy grinned like he'd gotten up that morning with the sole purpose of annoying her as much as humanly possible. His cheer always did precede his nastier moments; it was one of the rules of nature, like the turns of the season, the ebb and flow of the tide, the- "Although - I heard you _did_ have certain talents."

"As a matter of fact, I do." She brandished her wand, which made him whoop and retreat a few steps. "Bat Bogey Hex?"

His laugh was more of a mad cackle; it made people turn their heads to look at them. Rolling her eyes, Ginny grabbed his arm and steered him into the post office a little further down the road.

"Please," he laughed, "Don't play shy now, Weasley. Is there any man left that you haven't taken to Madam Puddifoot's?"

"Yes. You," she said, breezing past him through the door.

Behind the counter sat a clerk, who looked up from the Quidditch pages of the Prophet as she entered. "Can I help you?"

"I'd like to send a note to London?" Ginny took up a quill and parchment at the customers' desk and penned a quick message to Harry, confirming his appointment at Hogwarts for the next week and asking him to make time for Teddy. She ignored Malfoy completely until she had paid and they stepped out of the post office, and he had the good sense to stay quiet or she _would_ have hexed him.

"You aren't usually so unsociable," he complained as they strode down the road towards Dervish and Banges with new purpose. "I would think we deserved a spot of fun now and then, what with the war ruining our youth and all... I know, I know," he preempted when he saw her draw breath, "'Evil Death Eater', I'm not allowed to complain, every sixteen-year-old should be lucky enough to serve the Dark Lord or die."

It was the one argument he could never win, and she had often wielded it like a weapon in their first few years back at the school, flung it in his face to watch him wince, and hurt, and retreat. All of it was true, and saying it out loud was only fair; all of it, except one thing. "You know I never said that last part."

She knew, after all, what it was to do Tom Riddle's bidding, helpless like a puppet on a string. Still, Madam Puddifoot's was a thing of the past: a part of a long-ago life that had been simpler in many ways. They could never go back.

Malfoy had the single-minded zeal of a particularly nasty mother dragon when he wanted something, but Ginny _could_ try to distract him. Sometimes, it even worked. "Can you remember what was on my shopping list?"

He blinked at the non-sequitur, but then he said, "I thought the point of making a shopping list was to take it along when you shop," and darted out of reach, laughing, when she raised her arm to smack him. "Are you _sure_ it's not in your pocket?"

Her skirt pockets, when she emptied them out at the counter of Dervish and Banges, contained a few Sickles and Knuts, candy wrappers, a broken quill, a confiscated deck of Exploding Snap and lots of lint, but not her shopping list. Fortunately, between the two of them and the order she'd sent in ahead, she and Malfoy managed to remember most of what was needed to restock the supply closet for her class.

"A Probity Probe would be good to have, don't you think? For practice, to see if the kids can make their _Revelio_ work?" Ginny had Mr Dervish wrap one up. "And get us a few dozen Secrecy Sensors, too, please?"

"My stock is low," Mr Dervish said after checking a few boxes on his crammed shelves. "I can sell you eight today and backorder the rest?"

Malfoy leaned against the counter, idly playing with a Remembrall. "What for? Someone is always lying about something."

"That's a cheerful world view," Ginny commented, shrinking the parcels that had already been packed up so they fit into the pockets of her skirt.

"It's only the truth." He tossed her the Remembrall, which she caught awkwardly with her left hand. Instantly, it turned red. He smirked. "Now what have you forgotten?"

Huffing, Ginny set the orb down to pay. "I don't know. I'll owl when I remember, sir, all right?"

"Certainly, Miss Weasley. Good day to you." Mr Dervish didn't seem sorry to see them take their banter and Ginny's scattered brain elsewhere.

They stopped outside the shop to count the miniature parcels. "I _think_ we got everything." Ginny slipped a few into the pockets of Malfoy's billowing black coat as well. "Now all I need is the Instant Darkness Powder that my brother promised me, and I can have that NEWT practice session with the seventh years."

"You play around with joke products in your lessons and call that teaching." He shook his head, chuckling. "Ingenious. Really, sometimes I think you're-"

There was a shriek, followed by the high, tinkling sound of glass shattering. Halfway down the street, two teen boys burst through the door at Honeydukes, arms locked around each other in choke holds. They stumbled a few steps and crashed to the ground, where they rolled around, each fighting for the upper hand.

"Is that..." Malfoy hurried forward and made a grab for one of the boys, whom he hauled upright by his collar. Ginny recognized a short, heavyset Slytherin fourth-year from her class. "Webber," Malfoy barked, "We allow _Hufflepuffs_ to provoke us now? Where is your dignity?"

The Hufflepuff boy – a pimply third-year who seemed to be missing clumps of his sandy hair – jumped up and clawed at Malfoy's back, trying to reach around Malfoy to get at his opponent.

"Hey! Ow! Would you stop! Weasley, some help?"

Ginny caught the boy by the sleeve before he could climb Malfoy's back like a monkey racing for the last banana on the tree. "Peters? _What_ are you doing?"

The boy's head turned slowly; his eyes were glassy and hooded. He blinked at Ginny like he was half asleep.

Ginny huffed. They'd had to talk to the staff at the Three Broomsticks twice this year already about keeping the barrels of firewhiskey under lock and key. She was sure her generation hadn't been this unruly, and that was saying something. "Enough now, boys! Stop!" A tittering crowd of students had gathered around them in a half-circle. "Carry on, everyone," Ginny said, glaring until even the giggling seventh-years retreated.

The Honeydukes shopgirl stood at the door, which hung, broken, off one hinge. She wrung her pudgy hands.

"Reparo," Ginny said, and the shards of glass sprung together, the door righting itself with a loud crack. "Boys," she shrugged. She gave Peters, the Hufflepuff, a warning glance before she let him go. The fight had gone out of him; he just stood there, shaking his head slowly.

Malfoy was twisting his lean body into frightening shapes, trying to rub his own bruised back. "They will both receive detention," he told the shopgirl with grim satisfaction. "Webber, you've had enough for today. Go back to the castle." The Slytherin boy, Ginny noticed at a closer look, wore the same dumb, glassy-eyed expression as the other student. They must've gotten into the firewhiskey in perfect accord before they fell out and started fighting.

Webber raised a hand in slow motion like it was being pulled by an invisible string, and slurred, "He started it! I didn't even do anything."

"Did not!" the Hufflepuff boy chewed out the words like a wad of old gum. "He...he..." He ran a hand over his plucked scalp. "I dunno."

Ginny harrumphed, and instantly felt like McGonagall. From the corner of her eye, she saw Malfoy smirk. "I don't even want to hear it. Go back to the castle, we'll talk about this later."

For two people who'd just been at each other's throats, they turned as one now without protest and slowly trudged down the road back to the school together. Ginny shook her head.

Malfoy shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. "Well. What is their punishment going to be?"

She nudged him. "Since when are you such a strict disciplinarian?"

He raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Please. _I_ wasn't raised in a barn, like some. I was raised-"

"A spoiled brat?"

"I wish. Have you _met_ my father?"

"Yes. And your mother, whenever she comes to visit to fuss over you and bring you sweets from home," Ginny reminded him.

Malfoy's angular face seemed to soften around the edges. "Sweets don't mean she wasn't strict."

Ginny couldn't imagine Mrs Malfoy ever disciplining her precious baby. If he was a decent teacher, it was only because he enjoyed being in charge, always had, ever since he himself had been a Prefect at school.

"So what do you think we should do with those boys?" She gestured in the direction the pair had disappeared.

"Make them scrub the toilets in the Quidditch locker rooms," Malfoy said with relish. "Have them stand in as targets at your seventh years' Defence practice. Put them on kitchen duty with the house elves-"

"I think I'll have them do lines. On the dangers of intoxication."

Malfoy looked appalled. "I had to do detention in the Forbidden Forest once. As a first year! Lines! Honestly, Weasley."

"I'm sure you deserved it," Ginny said primly.

"I did not!"

"Well, you still don't get to take it out on your students," she shrugged. "They're kids. They should get to do stupid things, get into the Firewhiskey once in a while."

He shook his head. "The Three Broomsticks. _Such_ a quality establishment. I'll send them a howler."

"Don't bother." Ginny smirked at him. "I'll talk to the owner in person."

"Now you're making me feel sorry for him." He inclined his head. "I think we should cheer up Rosalind a little. I need some licorice wands."

"Licorice wands, Malfoy? Really?"

"They're for Ted. He likes them."

Ginny had to bite back a smile. "You're his teacher. Don't embarrass him."

"They'll find their way into his bag, I'm not going to give them to him. What do you take me for, an idiot?" he scoffed.

"Would you really like to know?"

Malfoy turned on his heel, his black cloak swishing dramatically, and marched into Honeydukes, past the flustered shopgirl who still stood on the threshold, watching the teachers bicker.

Ginny gave her an apologetic look as the two of them followed Malfoy into the shop. "Sorry for the trouble, Rosalind. We'll talk to those boys, see that it doesn't happen again."

The girl nodded doubtfully. "The boss won't be pleased if he finds out I can't handle the students' Hogsmeade weekends, and I really need these shifts."

"Your boss is going to be pleased if you make a big sale, isn't he." Malfoy suddenly sprung out from behind a shelf like a jack-in-the-box, an enormous bag of licorice wands under his arm. He leaned over the counter and smiled at the shopgirl in a winning manner that, in Ginny's opinion, only made him look particularly insane. "I'd like to make an order. You deliver, don't you? My kids deserve a treat for beating Gryffindor to all the prizes this year."

Ginny gritted her teeth. The Quidditch Cup was lost, sure enough, but the House Cup was still fair game. "Not yet."

"Ah well." He turned his wicked grin on Ginny. "It's only a matter of time. My Slytherins know not to disappoint me." Spotting a chocolate frog hopping across the counter, he caught it in his hand and bit off a leg. "We'll start with a hundred of these. But I don't want any that have collectible cards of Harry Potter, you understand?"

The shopgirl brightened. "Yes, sir."

"Fifty licorice wands...three tubs of Every Flavor Beans, but not _every_ flavor, obviously, only the good ones...fifty sugar quills...I think you should write this down." He began to rattle off an enormous order, to the excitement of the shopgirl and the amazement of two elderly witches, who eyed Malfoy like he was the devil, come to curse all children with sugar highs.

Ginny glanced around, despairing once again over the moment of carelessness that had ultimately led to her ending up here, and with a maniac for a colleague too. At his worst, Malfoy seemed intent on driving her insane, one way or another; at best, he managed to make Ginny look bad in comparison by spoiling the children rotten.

"Can we go now?" She jerked her chin at the line of students which was forming behind him at the counter.

"All right! We have students to punish." Malfoy scattered a handful of Every Flavour Beans, which he'd sampled, on the counter. "Clean that up, will you? And have my order sent up to the castle."

"Yes, sir," the shopgirl beamed at him.

The bell sang a cheerful "Thank you!" as they exited the shop, Malfoy prancing ahead with his nose in the air like a conceited pony.

"That was crazy and excessive," Ginny commented.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," he grinned.

Maybe he couldn't be blamed for the mad streak that ran in his family, but Ginny really wasn't above teasing him for it. "What are you going to do with fifty pounds of candy?"

"We live in a school, Weasley," he told her, very slowly like he suspected she was stupid. "Candy is currency. And it's going to buy me a quiet end of term."

"Have you ever gotten anything in life without bribery?" she wondered.

"Yes." Malfoy glanced over at her, his pale eyes glittering as with some secret delight, and gave her a smug sort of smile. "I got this job, didn't I. Race you back home."

And with a crack, he had disapparated.


	2. Chapter 2

The lovely summer weather continued over the next week, making it difficult for everyone to maintain focus during lessons. More than once, Ginny caught herself gazing out her classroom window at the Quidditch pitch, where Malfoy was holding flying lessons. The first years were getting better, flying in formation around the castle with Malfoy at the rear shouting instructions, and Ginny wished she could be out there too, chasing the wind on her broomstick.

It had been a summer much like this one was shaping up to be, five years ago when she'd returned to the school, beautiful sunshine soothing the ache in her bad shoulder, if not her heavy heart. Still, when she'd mounted her broom again for a flight around the castle, she'd felt a sense of belonging, like it could be okay, with time, for her to be here even though she'd never considered becoming a teacher.

Then she'd found out about Malfoy, Malfoy had found out about her, and _that_ hadn't been pretty.

Ginny knew the headmistress had been in a pickle when she'd hired him, but that didn't make the offence of Malfoy's presence smart any less. After the war, most former Slytherins had had the grace to be imprisoned, quietly go into exile, or at least felt too embarrassed to flaunt their allegiance. Of course, Malfoy wasn't 'most people', and so he and Ginny had spent their early days as teachers hissing curses at each other whenever they met in the corridors.

Just why Malfoy would want to be a teacher in the first place was a mystery to Ginny. He shared a mutual dislike with most of the staff, who remembered him from his student days, he was unhappy having to take turns at the coaching job with Ginny, and he despised teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. That he had a surprising aptitude for the subject seemed entirely beside the point.

Being back at Hogwarts, seeing the school rebuilt and alive with children's laughter again, brought Ginny a sense of closure that she hadn't even known she yearned for. Malfoy, though, haunted the castle like a pale ghost, moving through the shadows light-footed and silent, his wand held aloft like he still expected danger to lurk around every corner.

He had no right to behave this way, when it had been he who'd brought evil to Hogwarts in the first place, he who'd made this place feel unsafe. He had stolen it from all of them. And yet, the more she watched him, Ginny couldn't find it in her to attack someone who was still so scared. Someone who was scarred, just like everyone else, even if she didn't _want_ to count him as one of their own. She couldn't count him as one of the _others_, the ones whose deaths they'd celebrated, cheering while they dug the graves. Malfoy didn't deserve _that_.

He didn't deserve anything, Ginny had decided at some point. Not her anger, certainly not her pity. Indifference would be punishment enough. He'd always hated not being the center of attention.

Ignoring him hadn't worked so well, though, because he wasn't gracious enough to ignore her in turn. She could pretend he was invisible all day long: Malfoy still hexed her whenever her back was turned.

And so she'd kept an uneasy eye on him, like everyone else, hating the way he was stuck in the past, hating how she actually began to feel sorry for him when the months passed and it became abundantly clear that throwing curses at Ginny was the only thing that ever seemed to rouse him from his self-inflicted misery.

"Death Eater," students whispered when he stalked past, wrapped in disdain like a dark cloak. Concerned parents sent letters to the headmistress. The younger children feared the bedtime stories they heard in the dorms, of war and death and Malfoy, larger than life, the very terror that haunted kids' nightmares.

Malfoy _certainly_ didn't deserve to become the stuff of legend. It made her furious.

The next time she heard the whispers swell around him like the tide, Ginny spoke up and said, in as bored a voice as she could manage, "That's all ancient history."

The students' voices had faded away to a confused murmur. Malfoy had stopped in his tracks, and looked around at her like he was seeing her for the first time, his face still clenched tightly with anger, but his eyes grey like storm clouds, full of hurt and confusion.

After weeks and weeks, it was the first time she'd acknowleged him at all. Ginny had looked him straight in the eye, and added, in an undertone that was only for him to hear, "Doesn't mean you aren't still a tool."

His lips had twitched strangely, like even his customary sneer was frozen in his perpetual mask of ill humour. "And why should I care what _you_ think?"

But a connection had been made: once they'd started talking, it seemed, they could never stop, for fear of the other one getting the last word.

The next morning, Malfoy had sat down beside her at breakfast for the first time. The displays of his bad moods, she'd gotten used to, but there was an undercurrent to his voice now that was new. "_You_ are the tool, Weasley."

Ginny generously chalked up the lame retort to him being out of practice, and hexed his tea cup to hop off whenever he reached for it.

No one should get between Malfoy and his morning tea, but that was another story entirely.

"Professor?"

Ginny blinked. The Quidditch pitch below was empty. She turned around to find two dozen pairs of eyes looking at her expectantly. The clock on her mantelpiece chimed. "Oh - class dismissed."

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief at the end of another school day. Ginny watched the students hurry off, chattering and excited. She had never thought too much of academic achievements, although she'd been an okay student, but now she found herself understanding her mother's ambitions for her children. Still, she also knew how the students felt, cooped up in class when the weather was so beautiful.

Over the next few days, she tried having them pair up and practise their defensive spells instead of poring over textbooks. The practical approach still worked best, just as it had in Ginny's time, but there was no war to be fought, and the sessions didn't have the same sense of urgency about them. Whenever she felt annoyed at the kids' lack of seriousness, she reminded herself that she wouldn't have them any other way, and didn't give out detentions even when the giggling teenagers turned their Boggarts into hideous caricatures of Ginny herself.

"Did you show them that trick?" she asked Malfoy, having walked in to his lesson of remedial Defence one afternoon to raucous laughter.

He shook his head innocently. "Kids just don't respect their elders anymore."

Ginny folded her arms across her chest, glaring at him as the students filed past them with curious eyes. "And why's that?"

"It's not my fault," Malfoy claimed. "I rule my common room with an iron fist."

"I'm sure you do." She thought of the pounds of candy that had been delivered to the castle by no less than five exhausted owls. "Keep an eye on Webber, will you? He's been off his game since he got beat up in Hogsmeade, maybe his head got hit."

"Slytherins are never _off their game_."

"He's responsible for three out of four hexed-off noses," Ginny said doubtfully.

Malfoy waved her off. "It's probably all part of a cunning plan."

She snorted. "It's a good thing Harry's coming to help, if you can't keep your students in line."

That wiped the smirk right off his face. "I don't need Potter's help!"

"Hmm," she made, and swept off, leaving Malfoy to stew.

He began to complain about Harry's imminent arrival daily at breakfast, enacting gruesome duelling scenes with the help of bread rolls and toothpicks, but he did seem to pick up the slack over the next few days: by the end of the week, thanks to their combined efforts, every OWL student could produce at least a wisp of a Patronus, and there'd been only a few minor injuries, but no loss of limbs. Ginny counted that as a success, and even Malfoy looked pleased when the weakest student in the class, a nervous, twitchy Hufflepuff girl, disarmed him during practice.

On Saturday morning, Ginny came down from Gryffindor Tower to find Malfoy lounging in an alcove that she had to pass on the way from her office to the Great Hall. His robes fell in careful folds around him, and he had his arm thrown over his face in a gesture of abject misery. Ginny studied him for a moment, almost admiring his complete lack of shame.

Only Malfoy, she thought, and had to bite back a smile. "Come on, your tea's going to get cold," she said, striding up to tug at his sleeve.

Malfoy glanced at her from under his elbow. "Who could have _tea_ on a morning _like this_?"

She reached over him to push open a window, letting in a balmy breeze that carried with it the smell of fresh grass. "It's a beautiful day."

"It's Potter day," Malfoy complained.

Ginny knew how much he liked to wallow in self-pity; maybe she should be nice and leave him to it. "Malfoy, you really shouldn't let your life revolve around a man like this."

Malfoy dropped his arm to scowl at her. "I am merely _concerned_ for...the welfare of our students!"

"How's an extra lesson going to hurt?"

"Potter is not a teacher," Malfoy said indignantly. "He's not qualified."

Ginny smirked. "Well, he did save our lives that one time."

Malfoy's long face became even longer. "And don't you just hate him for that."

She laughed. "Aren't your Slytherins on the Quidditch pitch this afternoon? So go and coach them. You might be able to avoid him completely."

"That's not the _point_," Malfoy informed her petulantly. "The point is that he's coming here, to _our_ castle, to teach _our _ kids, and he's probably going to wear his stupid Auror uniform too-"

"As he should, on official Auror business," Ginny interjected.

Malfoy huffed. "I don't know why everyone still swoons over him. Especially you, after what he did to you."

The last thing she needed were comments like this to fuel the school gossip. "He didn't do anything."

"Right. That was the whole problem, wasn't it." Malfoy sounded happier now in contemplation of someone else's misfortune. "But no one knows what I suffer," he sighed, swinging his legs off the windowsill to land lightly on his feet. "I'm going to tell you all about it. In great detail."

"In that case, I definitely need breakfast." She strolled off, hearing him fall into step behind her. "If you give me the short version of your suffering, you can be outside by the time he gets here."

But for all of Malfoy's complaining, he didn't go anywhere. When Harry arrived at Hogwarts, Malfoy was there in the hall, decked out in Slytherin Quidditch gear and showing off his ridiculously expensive racing broom to a few admiring second-years.

Harry, coming up from the gate, stopped in the doorway to watch Malfoy with the kids. After a second, Malfoy felt his gaze and looked up. The two of them stared at each other across the hall for a few long moments, and then Harry let out a snort and inclined his head.

"Malfoy."

"Potter."

"So you remember each other. Glad we've got that sorted," Ginny said brightly, stepping forward to hug Harry. "Hey. Good trip?"

"I apparated." Harry's gaze touched longingly on Malfoy's broom. "I thought about flying, but that would've taken too long if I'm going to be spending time with Teddy later, too."

"Well. _I'm_ going to oversee the _champions'_ Quidditch practice now," Malfoy announced loudly. He strolled out the door past Harry and Ginny, flanked by excitedly chattering kids. His eyes met Ginny's, and he smirked.

"Oh, get over yourself, Malfoy," she called after him.

Malfoy waved a dismissive hand, never turning around.

"Everything seems just like always," Harry said, behind her.

She turned, smiling. "Yeah."

"Good," he said, an answering smile tugging at his lips. "So. You've been well?"

"It's been a pretty good year," Ginny told him as they made their way to the Great Hall, where the tables had been cleared away to make room for Harry's special class. There would be an address first, but Ginny knew he'd always been one for a practical approach. "Of course I'd rather coach, but the Defence job is okay. Even though the students really can't be bothered with it."

"How do you mean?" Harry himself would probably be hard pressed to decide whether Quidditch or Defence Against the Dark Arts should be considered more important, but a disinterest in either of them would have to be thought of as strange. He surveyed the hall with satisfaction, pleased to be back.

"They're kids. They're not like we were, at their age." She quirked a smile. "It's just another class to them."

He nodded thoughtfully. "That's how it's supposed to be, isn't it."

She waved a few fifth-years who were idling by the door into the hall. "I think so."

"I hope I can persuade some of the NEWT students to apply for Auror training. We need the new blood."

A steady trickle of students began to arrive now, word having spread around the castle that Harry Potter was actually there. They spotted Ginny and Harry at the front and kept a respectful distance, sticking their heads together and whispering among themselves.

Harry folded his arms across his chest as he regarded the tittering crowd of kids. "So you enjoy it?" he pressed. "Teaching? You look..."

Surprised, Ginny looked around at him. They were long past compliments – or any commentary on each other's lives, really.

"Good," he concluded. His gaze flickered past her to the students again.

"Oh – well, thanks." She smoothed back a strand of hair that had come loose from her long braid, feeling self-conscious and silly for it. "You look good, yourself. That Auror uniform is very dapper." She reached out to smack him playfully across the shoulder, but it only seemed awkward when Harry winced, unused to her touch.

There was a moment of silence. "How are you doing, Harry?"

"Fine," he said, startled. "Y'know, work. Lots to do."

She nodded. It was always the same: there was always a mission, a goal, a purpose. Still, she wondered if he wasn't sometimes lonely, spending all his days hunting down bad guys only to come home to the empty house in Grimmauld Place in the evenings. But then, he'd made his choice. He went where he was needed, and so had Ginny.

"I've been seeing a lot of Ron," Harry continued on suddenly, more brightly. "We go for Butterbeer in Diagon Alley in the evenings. Hermione... I think he likes to get away once in a while."

They shared a knowing smile. When Hermione had been pregnant with her and Ron's first, Rose, the whole family had learned to be wary of her erratic bursts of spontaneous magic. From what Ginny understood, things were calmer this time around, with Hermione now well into the third trimester of her pregnancy and Ron still having all his limbs, but apparently, the mood swings were sometimes hard to handle.

"They send their love," Harry said.

"Thanks," she smiled. "It's been crazy here with the exams coming up. I hope I'll be able to make it home on Sunday." The last Sunday of every month saw a family gathering at the Burrow; Ginny would've killed for a taste of her mother's cooking by now. "Are you going to be there?"

Harry nodded. "Unless something comes up at the office."

"I wish I could bring Teddy, but he's being singled out enough," she mused.

His brow furrowed behind the rim of his glasses. "Is he doing okay? Down in the dungeons with Malfoy, I mean?"

"You need to stop asking that." It was an injustice to Teddy and Malfoy both. The boy didn't need nearly as much protecting as Harry made out; he was a handful and, if anything, Malfoy encouraged him. "The hat didn't put him in Slytherin for nothing."

"He's a good kid," Harry said automatically. "I don't know how he gets along with Malfoy."

"Teddy's a good kid," Ginny echoed, by way of explanation. She gestured towards the assembled students. "I think we're almost ready."

She pulled out the long list of names and began to take attendance. Most of the fifth through seventh years were there, except for a couple who recovered in the hospital wing after a defensive-spell-gone-wrong in the previous day's class, and those Slytherins who were on the Quidditch team. Ginny suspected that Malfoy had scheduled their practice purposefully so it coincided with Harry's lecture in a blatant show of how useless he thought the extra lesson really was.

"All right. Everyone, this is Harry Potter. He's with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement." The students didn't need to be told who he was, of course, but Ginny knew Harry preferred this sort of introduction to 'Harry Potter, war hero'. A few seventh-year girls whispered among themselves. Ginny gave them a pointed look. "He's come up especially today to help you out with your defensive spells and countercurses. Don't embarrass me." She waved her hand in invitation for Harry to take the place at the teachers' podium.

For a long moment, he looked up at the lectern where Dumbledore had stood so often, then Harry took the few steps with quick, fluid grace and looked down upon the curious students. "Er - hi."

Smiling faintly, Ginny faded into the background as the teens inched closer to the podium. Harry was actually amazing at motivating people when the need arose, but you wouldn't know it from the way he looked whenever he first had to take the stand and speak. And yet, he'd been an Auror for almost ten years now, responsible for new trainees for a while, and after a moment, when he'd gathered his bearings, the initial discomfort seemed to fade. Harry surveyed the familiar hall, the expectant young faces before him, and smiled.

"It's good to be back here at Hogwarts. Thanks for coming today, everyone."

Ginny swore she could hear some of the older girls sigh dreamily. Biting back a laugh, she took a seat on the sidelines and settled in to enjoy the show.

Harry kept his speech brief, but there was no mistaking his passion for his job. He spoke about field work as an Auror, and some of the cases where the very spells that the students were learning now had come in handy. "You never know when you might need defensive magic. Practice is everything."

Ginny helped divide the students into groups by age and skill, then assisted as Harry went round to demonstrate basic defensive spells, challenging some of the braver students to try and attack him. Many of the kids were intimidated, but after a pair of loud, boisterous brothers from Gryffindor had taken the first shot at famous Harry Potter, the crowd seemed to relax.

"Good job," Harry praised, walking around to watch the teens disarm each other, and correct a swish or flick here and there. "You need to focus," he told a group of girls, who promptly dissolved into giggles.

"Hem-hem," Ginny made; from the corner of her eye, she saw Harry swallow a laugh. The girls only giggled harder. "This lot is hopeless," she told him as they left the students to their _Reducto_.

Harry glanced back at the group, Slytherins and Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs sticking their heads together like the silliest flock of geese Ginny had ever seen. "Well. At least they're getting along?"

"And they will all fail their NEWTs together if they keep this up," she sighed, but she had to smile. There was something to be said for the camaraderie, even if friendship among the houses took away some of the motivation to practise spells on each other.

"I'm sure they can do it if they want to," Harry said, chortling when a jinx spiralled out of control over their heads and singed the ends of his messy hair. "And you're a good teacher, Ginny. You'll get them there."

Ginny pointed her wand at his head, which was beginning to smoke. "_Finite_." It was probably saying something about the company she kept that honest compliments made her want to snort and roll her eyes. Harry was being sweet; she didn't think he'd appreciate it if she laughed at him, and it certainly wouldn't set a good example for the students.

They worked for another hour or so, until Ginny had bright spots dancing before her eyes from the firework of countless spells, and the students were tired and getting dangerously careless.

"I think that'll be enough for today," Harry finally announced. "Keep practising, everyone. Well done. Nice Patronuses!" He nodded at the twins, Smith and Smith, who always reminded Ginny of her own brothers. After a few fruitless attempts, the boys had produced a pair of wispy, but extremely lively squirrel Patronuses. Ginny felt proud.

The students filed out one after the other, some of them laughing, exhilarated by the lesson, while others dragged their feet with exhaustion. A few fifth years from Hufflepuff lingered timidly by the doors.

"Mr Potter?" one of them spoke up, "c-could we get an autograph?"

Harry gave Ginny a look of despair, but signed the boys' Defence textbooks without comment.

The Front Hall was busier than usual, a surprising number of students hanging around in alcoves and over the banisters, trying to catch a glimpse of their famous visitor. Ginny steered him through the throngs of people as quickly as possible, but not without many 'hellos' and a few handshakes.

When the two of them stepped out of the front doors into the courtyard five minutes later, he breathed a sigh of relief. "So that's done. Good."

"When are you meeting Teddy?"

"I told him three o'clock. I wasn't sure when we'd be finished with the lesson." Harry looked cheered at the thought of his godson.

"Come on, let's take a walk." They still had a little time before Teddy would be expecting Harry. Together, they wandered off towards the grounds, their steps taking them quite naturally in the direction of the Quidditch pitch. In the distance, they could see small shapes zigzagging across the blue sky, the Slytherin team still on their broomsticks. "You should take a look at the talent this year, Slytherin's got some really good players."

"That's got to hurt," Harry said, amused.

Ginny wagged her finger. "Teachers are not supposed to show bias."

"Right," he said, watching the Quidditch team chase each other through the air. "And what about Malfoy?"

"What about him?" she countered.

"This wasn't quite what I had in mind when I told him to make himself useful, after his father's trial," Harry said ruefully. "Him becoming a teacher."

Perhaps that was why Malfoy had taken the job in the first place: purely out of spite. Ginny wouldn't put it past him. "Slytherin needs a Head of House. Professor Singh is a brilliant Potions master, but he was a Ravenclaw."

"Never thought I'd come to miss Slughorn," Harry grinned.

Up ahead, there was some commotion as one of the Slytherin players fouled and the rest of the team pounced on him, hollering.

"Roberts is going to need that arm if you want her to score against Hufflepuff, MacDonald," Malfoy could be heard, his authoritative voice carrying across the lawn. He was hovering in the air above the kids' heads, observing. "That was stupid. Roberts, take a penalty shot."

Harry snorted. "Don't tell me he's grown out of his cheating ways."

"Well, it's _Malfoy_." It should've been enough of a statement, but as she watched the Slytherins cheer on their Chaser, Ginny found that it wasn't, not anymore. "He cares about those kids."

Harry looked surprised. "I wouldn't have pegged him as a great teacher."

"He's not a great teacher," she shrugged. "He's all right. But he's a great Head of House. I don't know how he does it, but the kids really do work hard."

Harry considered this with all the easy suspicion that came with his job heaped on top of long years of schoolboy antagonism, but not even he could detect anything wrong with it. "They're Slytherins. They're supposed to be ambitious, aren't they."

"They're just kids, trying to do well." She pointed up at the students on their broomsticks, shouting and whooping as they chased their keeper back and forth between her hoops to congratulate her after a spectacular save. "I mean, look at them."

Harry looked; after a few moments, his mouth curled at the corners. "I miss playing Quidditch regularly."

Ginny felt a funny stab at her insides. "Me too."

He glanced around at her, startled. "Oh – yeah. 'Course you do." Harry cleared his throat. "How's the arm?"

"The same." She rolled her shoulder automatically, as if a part of her still expected to find the stiffness gone and the motion of her arm smooth as it had once been. The joints crunched unpleasantly. She made a face. "Useless."

Carefully, like he was afraid of actually causing her physical pain, Harry laid a hand on her bad arm. "You're not useless."

"I didn't say I was," she said waspishly, shaking him off. "I'm just not a Chaser anymore."

"That foul was..." A deep angry line appeared between his brows; Hermione had stopped him and Ron from hexing the opposing Beater good and proper that day, but that didn't mean Harry couldn't still fantasize about it. Ginny did, sometimes. "I still think they should've banned the Tornadoes from the league."

"It's professional Quidditch. Accidents happen," she said stiffly. "It's done. I'm still good enough to coach the kids every other year, so that's all that matters."

There was an awkward pause. Then, Harry said, "Hermione said you'd been seeing Dean again."

Another thing she didn't particularly want to talk about. "Oh – yeah. I was. But that's all over. Again."

"Yes?" Harry said, too quickly. "Er, how come?"

She shrugged, looking past him, up towards the Quidditch pitch. The Slytherins were laughing as they tossed the Quaffle back and forth, only half serious about their practice match at the end of a successful season. Occasionally, Malfoy shouted orders that went unheeded, going back and forth along the length of the pitch on his broom, the wind playing with his hair and whipping colour into his pale cheeks.

He should've been Chaser when he was on the school team, she thought as she watched him overtake the students on the inside lane so he could round on them and shout some more. He had the speed and the instincts, and scoring goals would've appealed to him: instant gratification. It was a shame he'd been so set on competing with Harry that he hadn't bothered to develop his true talents.

"Malfoy says it's because Dean's an insufferable bore and I need more excitement," she said absently.

"_Malfoy_ says...?"

Ginny started. "Huh? Oh, well. It's not that. It's not _just_ that. But it wasn't Dean's fault. It's just, I feel like... I have other things to do."

Harry looked at her strangely, his brow furrowing. "Like what?"

"Well, I do have a job that keeps me busy almost twenty-four hours a day," she said archly.

He had the grace to look sheepish. "I didn't mean... Just, you shouldn't be alone."

"I'm not alone." No, she wasn't, and in any case, it wasn't Harry's job to worry about her. She looked up at the sky, the students zigzagging around on their brooms, dark shapes against the light of the sun. "I have more kids to take care of now than I ever thought I would."

Harry shaded his eyes with his hand to watch a particularly daredevil maneuver by the Slytherin Beaters. They flew loops around the Chaser who was currently in possession of the Quaffle until she dropped it with a squeak, spinning out of sight on her broomstick. There was the sound of a crash.

Above, Malfoy laughed. "Try landing on your feet next time, Miller. All right there? Great job, boys."

"He's in a good mood," Harry commented. "Should we be worried?"

Ginny quirked a small smile. "Nah. He's just happy because Slytherin has already beat us to the Quidditch Championship and they're about to win the House Cup, too. But don't tell anyone I said that, I'm trying to keep up morale in the common room. Come on, let's take a closer look."

They had arrived at the narrow wooden staircase that led up into the stands. She pushed past Harry and led the way. Up on the highest seats, they had a great view of the pitch below. The team were getting ready to practise penalties: the players were lining up, each clutching a Quaffle, while the Keeper hovered by her hoops like a hummingbird, almost still, but thrilling with anticipation.

"The Wimbourne Wasps have already been in touch about her," Ginny told Harry, pointing at the Keeper, a tall, weedy seventh-year whose reflexes were frankly startling. "And the new Chaser looks promising. If the others can resist fouling her." Roberts, the Chaser, was small, but what she lacked in size, she made up for in determination. Ginny could see her eyes narrow with concentration as the girl accelerated, threw the Quaffle, and scored.

Malfoy had brought his broom down to mid-height to observe; now, he spotted the two new arrivals in the stands. He flew an elegant arch to meet the Keeper and quietly give a few instructions, then dropped down in the stands close to Harry and Ginny and strolled over.

"Behold, Gryffindors," he said, beaming proudly in the direction of the students like he had personally fathered, raised and trained every single one of them, "This is what a truly great team looks like."

Harry grumbled something unintelligible.

"Your kids are fun to watch this year," Ginny allowed, smiling, as Malfoy came to stand next to her seat.

He glanced at her as if he suspected mockery, never sure what to do with honest praise. "Naturally," he said then, puffing out his chest a little. "I am an extremely good coach."

It was debatable whether the Slytherin team's success was due to his coaching methods or the talent. Still, Ginny could respect his pride in his team. Slytherins could work hard, it appeared, when it suited their purpose. "You'll have to be when you start building the team up from the ground next year." Not only the Keeper was finished with school, after all. Malfoy would have his hands full in the coming term if he wanted to keep coaching Slytherin on top of teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"Take comfort while you can," he smiled, too exulted now by the day's practice to even try and squabble, "I might just surprise you, Weasley."

The problem with thinking Malfoy a tool for years was that he really could surprise her sometimes, catch her unawares and throw her off balance with his rare moments of good cheer, or the occasional strokes of genius that were all the more unexpected for how predictable he really was in his stupid, stuck-up habits.

It was startling when he smiled at her like this, content, for once, with himself and all the world, and she realized how much she really liked that smile, savoured it, for she knew it would not soon return. She held his eyes, soaking up his happiness and pride like early rays of summer sunshine, and only turned away when her face flushed warmly. That smug look of his reminded her of Christmas last, and she didn't want to think about that. The whole thing had been silly.

There'd been drinks, and mistletoe, and Malfoy just _wouldn't shut up_ about the new jumper that Mrs Weasley had made Ginny for Christmas. He'd glowed, grinning and pink-cheeked, with glee and the effects of Professor Singh's eggnog _masala_, and Ginny had kissed him mostly to get that look off his face.

She hadn't expected him to kiss back, or for her stomach to do an odd little flip as she felt his tongue brush her lower lip, ever so softly, and she realized that _damn_-, Malfoy was a good kisser.

What he'd thought of her, she didn't know, because Malfoy, uncharacteristically, hadn't said a word about it when they returned to the school after winter break. Perhaps, she'd thought, he was as embarrassed by the whole thing as she was, but his silences always were infinitely more disconcerting than his crazy ranting ever could be: it was Malfoy's way to go on and on about the unimportant things, after all.

Sometimes, though, there were those smug little smirks when he caught her looking at him, and if she thought of their encounter sometimes, alone in her room in the lonely hours of the early morning, she usually managed to remind herself that it hadn't been a good idea. Repeating it would only upset the careful dynamic between them that hung in precarious balance on any given day.

But now, Malfoy was looking at her with that little smile curling the corners of his mouth, his eyebrows raised as if he was gleefully anticipating a reaction, and Ginny could almost taste the spiced wine on her tongue, and knew they were thinking of the exact same thing.

Harry cleared his throat. "So," he said, folding his arms across his chest so the Auror uniform stretched tightly over his shoulders, "Your parents keeping well, Malfoy? Living the quiet life?"

Malfoy shrugged, not sparing Harry a single glance. "You should know, Potter, shouldn't you? After all, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is still monitoring our mail and bank accounts?"

Harry barked out a laugh. "You're just fishing, Malfoy."

Malfoy finally tore his eyes away from Ginny to grace Harry with a moment of his attention. He looked Harry up and down once, from his perpetually messy hair to his trainers, not exactly standard issue Auror uniform, and smirked. "Can't blame a man for trying. Now you'll have to excuse me, a very special lady is expecting me in Hogsmeade."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Oh, really."

"Yes." He turned back to her, Harry forgotten.

"You didn't say." If Malfoy was ignoring Harry, Ginny was now all too aware that she was being watched. She raised her chin, looking up at Malfoy's gleeful face. "I could've taken over supervising Quidditch practice."

"And ruin my perfect team with your Gryffindor ideas of fair play? No thanks." Malfoy tugged at the silver chain in his pocket that was attached to his watch. "I'm off. See you at dinner, Weasley." He turned in a flourish, and shouted down the pitch, "Keep at it, team. I want to see bloody noses when I get back."

The students laughed.

Malfoy strode off, his swagger even more exaggerated than usual. He climbed over the barrier at the front of the stands and jumped off the edge, shooting up into the air on his broom a moment later. Ginny and Harry watched him zoom across the lawn and drop down outside the school gates. He glanced back once at the Quidditch pitch, saw them watching him, and quickly disapparated.

"The more things change..." Harry sighed.

"Are you really still watching his family?" she asked.

Harry made a noncommittal noise. "He doesn't know that."

"But you are?"

"That's classified."

Ginny pursed her lips. "Right."

Chagrined, he ran a hand through his hair. "Look, Ginny, I know you've had to find a way to get along with Malfoy while you work here, but..."

"But?" she prompted.

Harry seemed to struggle with the next words, but then, he shrugged and seemed to relax. "Nothing. I know you'll be careful; you know him just as well as I do."

Better, Ginny thought, and bit her tongue on a sharp remark.

"Hey, there's Teddy." With apparent relief, Harry pointed in the direction of the school. A small child was skipping across the lawn towards the Quidditch pitch, his bright blue hair unmistakeable.

Ginny followed Harry down the stairs to meet the boy, who beamed with excitement when he saw them. "Hi, Uncle Harry!" His bounciness reminded Ginny vividly of Tonks, but luckily, her son was not as accident-prone.

"All right there, Teddy?" Harry said, patting the boy's shoulder. "How's, er, school?"

"Great!" Teddy enthused. "I've been making buttons into beetles and quills into ducklings, but the headmistress said I shouldn't show off." Unsurprisingly, Teddy had a natural talent for Transfiguration that sometimes caused disruptions when his classmates' possessions suddenly developed a life of their own. "And I can do this now – look!" He wiggled his eyebrows, and they turned into caterpillars as blue as the hair on his head. "I'm not supposed to transform, either," he told them in an undertone, "But I still practise in the common room. Dra-, Professor Malfoy thinks it's funny."

"It's. Well, it is funny." Harry looked torn between encouraging Teddy and wanting to disagree with 'Professor' Malfoy. "But you listen to the headmistress, okay?" he tacked on, unconvincingly.

Teddy smirked. "Sure, Uncle Harry."

The problem with never having followed the rules was that it came back to bite you when trying to raise children. Ginny bit back a grin at Harry's look of quiet despair. "What are you two going to do today?"

"We're going into Hogsmeade!" Teddy had never been, aside from the night he'd arrived in Hogsmeade station on the Hogwarts Express; his excitement knew no bounds. "I've heard all about Honeydukes, and Weasley and Weasley's-"

"We're going to take a look," Harry promised, chortling. "But I have to tell you right now, your grandmother specifically said we weren't allowed to buy stink pellets this time."

"Drat," Teddy said. "I thought she'd forgotten."

"How could anyone forget?" Ginny laughed. Stink pellets had been a big hit at the last Weasley-Potter-Lupin-Tonks family gathering, or, if you were Molly or Mrs Tonks, reason for an epic tongue-lashing. "I'm sure you'll find something else to amuse yourselves with."

"Yeah." Harry's gaze touched fondly on the boy. "We'll see you later, Ginny. Or did you want to come?" he added as an afterthought.

Again, Ginny fought the urge to roll her eyes. "I have homework to grade. You have fun."


	3. Chapter 3

Ginny didn't get to grading papers right away, but she told herself that watching the Slytherin team practise did count as working: after all, she'd be responsible for the Quidditch teams the following school year. It never hurt to be prepared. Besides, homework wasn't nearly as much fun.

Not only the students lacked a work ethic by the end of the term. Ruefully, Ginny smiled at the Slytherin players as they packed up their brooms and Quaffles after another hour. "Nice work, everyone."

She might be head of Gryffindor, but as a former Quidditch pro, her expertise was valued. The students nodded respectfully at her before they left the pitch to head back to the castle, laughing and jostling each other. Ginny watched them go, wishing for a leisurely Saturday afternoon of her own. There was no reason to spend her time sunbathing in the stands now unless she wanted to come out and admit that she was hopelessly lazing around.

But if she was going to tackle the overflowing school bag that lay, shrunk to a manageable size, in her pocket, she might as well do it in the shadow of a nice tree down by the lake as in her musty office.

Her mind wandered, though, back to Quidditch practice, conjuring up game strategies and flight formations that she found herself sketching on the back of a scroll of homework. Sighing, she siphoned off the wet ink before it could leave a trace of her absentminded doodling. She didn't usually wish herself back to her teen years – they'd been a little too gruesome to want to relive – but sometimes, she found herself envying her students' carefree lives, untouched by worries or thoughts of duty outside of handing in their papers and playing a decent Quidditch season.

She felt inclined to just blame her moods on Harry. He always brought the memories back with him.

Ginny didn't like to think about the past too much. Harry had covered up his old scars with a brand new Auror uniform, and she had put ribbons in her hair in the bright colours of her Quidditch team and made a full-time job out of playing games. For a while, it had been blissful, but the war had cost them more than they had realised in the joyful aftermath of Voldemort's death. Her perfect new life had been built on shaky ground, the ruins of a past that had been buried deep, but not forgotten.

One moment, she'd been captain of a championship Quidditch team; the next, she'd been just a girl with her arm in a sling, and Harry, he... he'd wanted to be there with her, Ginny knew, but he'd also had a sense of duty, ingrained too deeply through years of chaos and danger to ignore in times of peace. There'd still been dark wizards to catch, a good opportunity for international magical cooperation with the French Aurors, who'd infiltrated the pocket of Death Eaters the Ministry had long suspected of hiding out in Normandy, and in the end, she couldn't ask him not to go.

A few days' mission had turned into a week's, and then a month's, as the suspects evaded capture, and it was only practical to move into the Burrow at the time. Ginny needed help, with her wand arm incapacitated, having to relearn the simplest swishes and flicks for her spells, and her mother had been only too happy to assist. When Harry finally returned, Ginny hadn't moved back into their flat.

It had been her fault. She knew he cared about her, but she hadn't given him the chance to prove it in his own way. Their relationship had survived a war, but it hadn't been built for anything less than that. She was hurting, and tired of his awkward attempts to console her, tired of the relief she saw in his eyes when he went away on another mission, tired of needing him when she'd always been okay on her own.

Magic could mend her arm, but not make it unbroken. Only nature could hope to heal it, with time and patience. Ginny had hoped and prayed, but it had never been quite the same. When McGonagall owled about the coaching job, it felt like fate telling Ginny to start over once more. She had packed up her things and not looked back.

Of course, social dynamics at Hogwarts could also be like quicksand, but Ginny had only come to fully appreciate that when she found herself comforting lovesick, sobbing teenagers at three in the morning. It didn't help that _some_ teachers behaved like immature sixteen-year-olds, too, but overall, even Malfoy's hostility was preferable to Ron and Hermione's clumsy attempts to get Harry and Ginny back together, or the awkward silences that ensued at the Burrow's dinner table for months after it became clear that the relationship had run its course.

Time did heal some wounds though, and if Ginny worried about Harry's ability to maintain meaningful relationships these days, it was mostly for the sake of Teddy, who needed a father figure in his life even if his charming smile made it so easy to forget that he didn't have a carefree childhood. She was glad to see Harry and his godson get on well, but then again, Teddy got along with everybody. It was a natural gift, which the boy had learned to use to his advantage. Ginny dreaded the day when he'd discover that girls didn't have Dragon Pox: they were really in for trouble then.

Smiling to herself, she looked up when she heard a child's laughter and saw the boy she'd just thought about come up the path along the lake, towards her. Teddy's bright blue hair was standing on end as if he was extremely excited or suffering from a sugar rush or, possibly, both. There were chocolate stains all over the front of his t-shirt and he was clutching a large bag of sweets, talking a mile a minute to a man in neat dark robes, whose bright blond hair gave away his identity even with Malfoy slouching to bring himself closer to Teddy's height. He had transfigured his Quidditch uniform and was now dressed impeccably in grey trousers and a starched white shirt and tie.

"...But imagine," Teddy was saying, "_Waves_ of candy. A _rain_ of candy!"

"Whatever idea you're having, forget it right now," Ginny called to him. Stuffing her papers back in her bag, she climbed to her feet and met the pair halfway up the path.

"It was just an accident," Teddy said excitedly. "Not me!"

"What was?" Ginny asked.

"There was an explosion at Honeydukes last night," Malfoy grinned, only too happy to point and laugh from the sidelines at people's misfortunes. "The shop's already been put back together, but half the high street is still covered in liquid licorice."

That _would_ be exciting to Teddy. "What happened?"

"Who knows. Rosalind swears she put out all the fires under the cauldrons before she left, but the owners are quite upset with her." Malfoy clapped Teddy's shoulder. "You may have to go without licorice wands for a while, Ted."

Teddy laughed. "No, I'm all set; I found some under my Charms homework," he said as if he expected nothing less than his school bag occasionally serving as an unlikely cornucopia. Sometimes, Ginny thought they all really did spoil the boy a little too much. "And Uncle Harry bought me loads of chocolate frogs at the new shop, _and_ he autographed all his own cards so I can trade one of him for two or three others."

Malfoy looked pained. "Potter's a real hero."

"Where _is_ Harry?" Ginny asked, belatedly.

"They called him away on a case." Malfoy didn't seem sorry to be rid of the man. "He dropped Ted off with me."

That must've thrown a wrench into Malfoy's plans. Ginny felt oddly pleased, and immediately silly for it. She and Malfoy had spent so much time circling each other over the past few years that she had developed a hyperawareness for his presence, always on her guard, and now it was beginning to feel strange not to have him around. Maybe it was the solitude driving her loopy, the lack of people her age. "You're back early. No luck with your date?"

"On the contrary. I had a really good time." He smirked. "Jealous, Weasley?"

"You wish," she scoffed, feeling angry at herself for showing enough discomfiture for him to latch on to. He was far too perceptive for anyone's good.

"Ah," he sighed, "I'd almost forgotten what it's like to be with a woman who knows how to make pleasant conversation, who's unfailingly polite and gracious-"

Ginny raised her eyebrows sceptically. "And that woman would want to associate with _you_?"

"Associate with me, bring me early birthday presents..." He trailed off; he was too busy gleefully searching her face for a reaction Ginny struggled not to give him, curiosity be damned. "She gave me this." He pointed at his throat, where a hideous cravat pin with a diamond the size of a Knut sparkled in the sunlight.

"Lovely." Ginny turned to go.

"Aunt Narcissa is all right," Teddy piped up, oblivious to Ginny's disdain, "Even though she doesn't like me turning my hair colors. Just like grandmum."

Malfoy laughed. "Neither she nor your grandmother would appreciate the comparison, Ted."

"_Aunt Narcissa_?" Ginny glanced back at the pair to see Malfoy shrug and smile, his long face set in a diabolical mask of glee. "Well, that explains your excitement."

"So?" he grinned.

Ginny didn't know what was more annoying, the fact that Malfoy thought he could get to her by pretending to a busy social life, or that it was working. "It's adorable," she said dryly, turning around to march up to the castle.

Of course, there was no greater insult. She could practically hear Malfoy's sneer when he said, "It's the dearth of good company up here. Who else am I supposed to get excited about?"

She didn't see why he should have a full private life at all when the highlight of her year had been to get into Professor Singh's homemade elderberry wine with Malfoy after her last, spectacularly anticlimactic date with Dean Thomas, but it would probably sound petty to actually say that out loud.

Ginny shook her head at herself. When Malfoy began to look like good company, it was time to start running in the other direction, just like she'd done the morning after their drunken shenanigans, as soon as she'd been able to pick herself up off the damp floor of the Potions classroom.

"It's all your fault, you know," a voice said close to her ear. She started when Malfoy tucked her hand under his elbow in a courteous manner that was at odds with the smug look on his face. "I try and try to be nice-"

"When have you ever?"

He tilted his head and smiled, his pale eyes glittering behind the wispy fringe of hair that fell into his face like a boy's, making him look much younger and completely carefree. "You're really very dense, you know."

"Now _that's_ nice, Malfoy."

"Would you rather I just didn't bother at all?"

Ginny tried to imagine a life where Malfoy _just didn't bother_, a quiet, peaceful life at the school, in which she spent her days teaching and chastising students and doing _nothing else at all_. It would be lovely.

It would be impossible.

Their habitual togetherness had begun to feel different lately, like it could be _almost_ normal for them to be working together and quibbling and then, when all else was said and done, taking a leisurely stroll across the grounds, her hand warm in his and the smile that so rarely reached his eyes for her alone to see.

On this lovely day, it felt like something new, something that could be if she let it, but Malfoy was still Malfoy, and she... She'd worked too hard to make a new life for herself at the school; they both had. Ginny didn't know how they'd go on if they had to start all over again.

She tried to tug her hand free, but Malfoy didn't let her go, nothing if not tenacious. Ginny gritted her teeth, but didn't resist him so as not to make more of a _thing_ out of this than it was. They fell into step together, walking back up to the castle, as Teddy skipped ahead.

"I miss my mother already," Malfoy sighed comically, giving her terse profile a sidelong glance. "My mother appreciates me."

"Well, she's made a full-time job out of it." It was always hard to mock him though when he was speaking affectionately of his mother. The one truly likeable thing about Malfoy was the way he cared about his own. Softening, Ginny squeezed the hand that was still holding hers. "And I can imagine what a tough job it must be."

He made an indignant little noise. "Please. I am easy to love."

She laughed out loud at that. "You are thirty and you still live at home. Ever consider what your parents might think of that?"

She was surprised when he winced. "I'm not thirty _yet_. And Potter's still wrongfully occupying the house that was supposed to come to me when the last heir of the Blacks died, so it's all his fault, as usual." So reconciled with the world and all its wrongs, he let out a sigh that almost sounded fond. "Potter. So what did he get up to?"

"He really put the kids through the wringer." Ginny didn't think the students had been sorry to see Harry leave; fun as practical lessons were, especially with famous Harry Potter, they had still taken the place of Saturday leisure time. "I think they'll be glad now it's just us teaching them."

"They won't be when they see my lesson plans." He grinned. "I worked out a practice schedule for each of them."

Malfoy kept meticulous books detailing each student's performance in class. It was one of the more surprising – and useful – ideas he had about being a teacher, although, Ginny suspected, he did it more for leverage in case he had to talk to concerned parents and less for the sake of organization. It did come in handy during exam preparation, though.

"Care to share?" she asked.

"And what will I get in return?"

"I will not hex you silly?" Ginny said sweetly. "Sillier, I mean?"

"We're supposed to set an example for the children, you know," Malfoy remarked, shaking his head. "Otherwise, all they'll have to go on for a role model is Harry bloody Potter." There was a pause; then, he said, "What about you? Did you two enjoy yourselves? Just like old times?"

Ginny glanced up at his profile, but he wasn't quite looking at her. "I had fun," she said, shrugging.

Malfoy made a face. "Ted wouldn't shut up about 'Uncle Harry' today."

"He was excited. He hasn't seen a lot of Harry since he started school, and they used to spend every weekend together."

"Yes, it's a miracle Ted's turned out as well as he has. It's probably my calming influence."

Ginny couldn't imagine to whom Malfoy's presence would ever feel calming, but Teddy, the sweet boy, seemed to enjoy it. She smiled. "You're not supposed to have favourites, you know."

"Oh, please. It's your lot that have spoiled him rotten."

That was true enough, but Malfoy wasn't going to lecture anyone on how to raise children. "It's not like you're any better."

"So what? Someone _should_ spoil him. His grandmother isn't the type, and her financial situation barely allows for Ted's tuition."

Ginny had suspected as much ever since Teddy had shown up for his first year in hand-me-down robes. The boy didn't seem to mind, and he had a generous godfather in Harry who saw to all of Teddy's wishes, but Ginny understood too well what it felt like to grow up knowing her parents had to stretch themselves to send her to school. "How do you know that?"

"Ted tells me things." He seemed offended that she'd doubt it. "And I happen to know that Mrs Tonks refused a sizeable inheritance after the war."

Ginny nodded pensively.

"She's never had a proper job in her life, Aunt Andromeda. What's she going to do?" Malfoy continued on, his eyes on Teddy in the distance. "I don't understand her."

"You wouldn't."

Malfoy's mouth set in a thin line of displeasure. "It's just gold."

She looked at him, trying to catch his eye, but Malfoy avoided her. "No, it isn't. Can't you see that? After all that happened-"

"It should go to Ted." Brusquely, Malfoy let her go. "_Especially_ after all that happened."

"You can't fix what was done to him or his grandmother," Ginny said sharply. "Not with gold."

"That's not the point," Malfoy burst out, colour rising in his cheeks. "But why not have one worry less?" Huffing, he buried his hands in his pockets and stalked ahead.

"Hey – wait." Ginny struggled to keep up with him as they ascended the hilltop and walked through the gates into the courtyard. Almost at the front doors, she caught up and laid a hand on his arm. "I hadn't looked at it like that."

Malfoy halted in the doorway. "Of course not. You're stupid."

Ginny bit back a grin. "Then what does that make you, for arguing with me?"

He glanced back at her, and she thought she saw a glimmer of amusement in his pale eyes before he shook his head and his hair fell into his face, hiding his expression. "I'm just too nice."

"Does that mean I can get a look at your lesson plans?"

"And reap the rewards of all my hard work?" He pretended like he had to think about it, but Ginny knew he could never resist a chance to show off. "It's going to cost you, you know."

A few students who passed them stuck their heads together and giggled.

"No doubt," Ginny said dryly.

"Ingrate," Malfoy said. "Come to my office after dinner. I have to debrief my Prefects now. Ah, Wilkes!" He flagged down a pimply Fifth-year, who'd been hanging around in the entrance hall, chatting to a few girls. The boy gulped and scurried over at an imperious gesture by Malfoy. "Report! How are we doing?"

"Up twenty points since breakfast, sir," the boy said readily. "The Fourth-years are still doing inventory in the library with Madam Pince. The First-years are almost done with homework-"

"Almost?" Malfoy raised his pale brows. "So what are you doing up here? Go and see that they get to it."

Wilkes gave the group of girls a despairing glance. "Yes, sir."

Malfoy clapped his shoulder. "Make me proud."

"Talk about pressure," Ginny commented as they watched the boy hurry off towards the dungeons.

"They know they'll be rewarded when we win the House Cup," Malfoy shrugged.

"And if you don't?" she wondered.

"Then they'll feel my wrath."

"You mean you'll whinge and moan for weeks?" Ginny could see how the prospect would motivate the students. "You always get what you want, don't you."

He glanced over at her and smirked. "We'll see. My office, eight o'clock, Weasley. Don't be late."

Ginny would've liked to keep him waiting just to be contrary, but that would mean allowing Malfoy to make her forget her manners, and she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. She wasted some time pushing papers from left to right on her desk after dinner, realised that her work would be much easier _after_ she'd looked at Malfoy's notes, and gave up, silently cursing him for making himself indispensable.

In all honesty, it was her own fault for slacking off. It was a good thing the end of term was near now; she was obviously overdue for a nice, long holiday, away from students and their bloody term papers and the personification of smugness who went by the name of Malfoy.

As the clock chimed eight, she left her office, taking her time patting her hair in the reflection of a large, ornamental golden plate that hung on the wall outside her office. She still arrived at Malfoy's dungeon, four floors down, just a minute later, and had barely knocked when the door was flung open.

"You're actually almost on time," Malfoy said by way of greeting. "Couldn't wait, could you."

"I'm not the one waiting by the door," she flung back, pushing past him into his office, which more accurately resembled a slighty seedy tea house. The perpetual twilight that filtered through the sun tunnel above his desk cast shadows over the bulky, antique furniture, and some unholy concoction was always bubbling over the hearth. The air was thick with the sweet scent of damp herbs and steam.

"Tea?" Malfoy asked.

"If it's not poisoned," Ginny gave the customary answer. She noticed a tea tray had already been set up on the table by the fireplace, complete with silver-rimmed china cups and huge, sugary cakes on a big platter. "What is this?"

Malfoy busied himself with the tea pot. "Lardy cakes. Wiltshire specialty. My mother brought them from home."

"Your mother cooks?"

He shovelled enough leaves into the pot to make a tea that would wake the dead. "No, of course not."

"Of course not," she echoed sarcastically.

"Well, she does make potions." He smiled to himself as he flicked his wand and boiling water poured from the tip into the teapot. "Ever heard of Cepheus Black And Sons? 'Purveyors of Peculiar Potion Ingredients, since the Middle Ages'?"

"My grandmother was a Black, thank you very much," Ginny said, if only to annoy him.

Malfoy's brow furrowed thoughtfully for a moment. "Right. She's one of those we don't talk about." He snickered.

"The embarrassment is entirely mutual," she assured him.

He made a rude gesture before he turned back to his tea. "My mother comes from a proud long line of potioneers. Why should a witch like her waste her time cooking?"

Ginny hadn't thought about it like that; she'd only thought that it was sad he'd never got to have a homemade family meal, cooked with love. "Well, I'd invite you to come join us for lunch on Sunday so you could see why, but I'm not sure you deserve my mother's roast."

Malfoy's mouth twitched. "I certainly don't deserve having to look at your brother's stupid mug while I eat." He stared wistfully into the middle distance for a moment. "Although it'd be fun to see what he would do if we showed up," he let the words roll off his tongue with relish, "_together_."

She perched on the armrest of a dusty sofa, watching him, imagining it: everyone she cared about assembled around the kitchen table in her childhood home; everyone she cared about, and Malfoy. Was it even necessary to make the distinction any more? They were colleagues, partners, perhaps even friends: didn't friendship mean putting up with each other even when the going was rough?

She hadn't really seriously thought about inviting Malfoy, but now that it had come up... It could be okay, she thought, watching him fiddle with his precious teapot. He could annoy Ron and talk to her mother about his fussy tea-making methods, and if everyone behaved, just for an hour, just for her, it could be okay.

Or it could be a spectacular failure.

"Would you like that?" she asked, hugging herself against a sudden catch in her breath.

Malfoy looked up, surprised. "Would _you_?"

"Would _you_?"

"No, would _you_?"

They could do this all night long, Ginny thought, caught in his peculiar gaze. They could do this all night, back and forth, and _enjoy_ it, never getting anywhere. She wasn't even sure she wanted to get anywhere. They had fought just for the fun of it for so long that it felt strange to think something else, something more might be lurking just behind the mask of his perpetual smirk and her cheerful insults.

Who knew what might happen if they ever actually agreed on something.

The silence that stretched between them was almost tangible, shimmering with tantalizing promise like hot air on the horizon.

She shivered. "It's probably not a good idea."

Malfoy smiled, pushing off the sideboard to advance on her, teapot in hand. "Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't."

What were they talking about again? Ginny shook her head against a sudden surge of - panic? Excitement? - as he came closer, close enough so she could smell his cologne and see the mercurial glint in his eyes, ever the reflection of his moods, his pale lashes fluttering as he leaned in towards her.

There was a crash outside his door.

She started back, almost tumbling over the arm of the sofa. "What was that?"

"The wind?" Malfoy suggested wearily. "Peeves? Someone put a firecracker in a suit of armour? Or one of the million other daily disasters that we needn't concern ourselves with _just this moment_?"

"We should check."

She heard him release a long-suffering sigh, but she was already moving. Let Malfoy pout; she was a teacher, she had responsibilities, and besides, she could _really_ use a moment to breathe. She opened the office door expecting to see nothing more dramatic than a cat playing with a decorative chamberpot. What she found instead was Teddy Lupin, glassy-eyed and obviously unconscious, tottering down the hall with half a suit of armour dragging behind him. The rest of it lay outside Malfoy's door in pieces.

"Teddy?" There was no reply.

"What's going on?" Malfoy looked out over her shoulder, teapot still in hand. "Ted? _What_ are you doing?"

Teddy continued slowly on, dragging his feet like he was very tired.

"I didn't know he sleepwalked." Ginny caught up with the boy in three quick strides and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Me neither. And at this time? It's barely past eight."

"_Rennervate_. Teddy?" She shook the boy gently, following her reviving spell, but he still didn't wake. Ginny frowned. "Could this be a prank?"

"_Finite_!" Malfoy said, pointing his wand between Teddy's blue eyebrows. Nothing happened; Teddy remained wide-eyed asleep. "I don't think so. That'd have to be one powerful spell."

Or a curse, Ginny thought, giving Malfoy a pointed look.

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. Students practising Unforgivables?"

"Wouldn't be the first time," she remarked.

Malfoy coloured slightly. "Just because he's in Slytherin doesn't mean-"

"I didn't say that it did."

"But that's what you meant," he sneered. "Who'd curse Ted? Everybody loves him!"

That gave Ginny pause; it was true enough. "Well, something isn't right with him."

"Maybe he got the wrong bonbon from one of your brothers' _funny_ candy boxes," Malfoy said sourly.

Ginny didn't want to admit it, but it was entirely possible; the range of candies from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes had expanded with the popularity of the snackboxes. In that case, they would have to wait until Teddy had slept off the effects – or walked them off, as it were. She sighed. "I'll take him up to Madam Pomfrey. We can't leave him wandering around the castle."

But when she tried steering Teddy in the direction of the hospital wing, he began to fuss under her grip. He'd followed her up the first few flights of stairs willingly enough, but by the second floor, he was jerking his shoulders, trying to shake her off. For a moment, Ginny thought that he had woken up disoriented, but then she looked into his eyes and saw that he was still out of it. Maybe he was dreaming.

By the time they reached Madam Pomfrey's door, Teddy was digging his slippered heels into the floor, and Ginny wondered if she'd have to restrain him.

"I don't know what's wrong," she told Madam Pomfrey as they wrangled the boy, who was thrashing around now, into a hospital bed. "I found him like this."

"Oh dear, another one," the matron gasped. "I've had two others from Slytherin brought up tonight. They were behaving just like this."

Malfoy's theory of candy-related accidents in the common room seemed more and more likely. "Can you do something for him?"

"I can give him a sleeping potion and hope for a quiet night," Madam Pomfrey huffed. "Pass me that bottle, please."

Ginny watched her administer a generous dose of foul-smelling potion, and after a few more spasms, Teddy quieted down. He didn't resist when the nurse tucked him into bed.

"There. The effects should wear off by morning." Madam Pomfrey wagged a finger in Ginny's face. "If I find out this ruckus was caused by a Weasley product-"

"I'll talk to my brothers." Ginny hadn't thought she'd ever find herself in a position where the skiving snackboxes didn't seem hilarious. She heaved a sigh. Being a responsible adult wasn't fun.

It felt almost refreshing that Malfoy was still determinedly immature. "I was starting to think you'd gone and laid down for a nap yourself," he greeted her upon opening the door for her a second time, before Ginny had even knocked. He shook the teapot, which clanked ominously. "Tea's cold now. How is Ted?"

She barely resisted the urge to stick out her tongue at him. "Teddy's sleeping in the hospital wing. Should be fine by morning."

Malfoy shrugged nonchalantly like he hadn't been waiting by the door for news. "Right. He has to be. Otherwise I'd have to notify his grandmother, and Ted knows he can't do that to me."

"Good to know you have the right priorities," Ginny commented, watching him shovel tea leaves into the pot with renewed enthusiasm. "There's two more of yours up in the hospital wing. Same symptoms as Teddy. Did you know?"

Malfoy looked back at her, frowning. "No. Goddammit, I've talked _and talked_ about the chain of command to those good-for-nothing Prefects. They know they're supposed to come to me." He abandoned his teapot on the sideboard to fling himself in an armchair and retreated into the upholstery to sulk like a sullen crab.

Ginny perched on the edge of his sofa again, across from him, and watched warring emotions chase each other across his face like rapidly moving clouds. He actually looked upset. "They probably didn't think you needed to know right away. The boys _were_ just sleepwalking."

"I need to know about everything. At all times," Malfoy glowered.

"I suppose knowledge is power," she smiled. It was Malfoy's uppermost principle as a teacher.

"It's also necessary for everyone's general wellbeing," he said sourly. "I will _have words_ with my Prefects. Tomorrow."

Abashed, Ginny nodded. She gestured at a small mountain of folders that were stacked up next to his lacquered black coffee table. "Are those the lesson plans?"

He'd invited her over tonight for the sole purpose of exacting payment for his favours, but now he just waved a dismissive hand at the stack of folders. "Yeah. All yours."

"Thanks." She wondered how she could cheer him up. "The cakes look good."

"Go ahead." Malfoy was still brooding, staring just past her at a point above her shoulder.

Ginny sneaked one of the greasy buns which he'd piled up neatly on a silver tray. She deserved a treat if she was going to be dealing with Malfoy's moods _and_ his illegible shorthand. The cake was extremely sweet and tasted faintly of cinnamon. "Reminds me of Christmas," she said offhandedly, licking sugar glaze off her lip, and Malfoy's gaze shifted back to her.

"Christmas." He steepled his fingers and regarded her over his folded hands, the gloom of his expression clearing to leave behind the hint of a smirk that signified, in Malfoy, the height of good humour. "Good times."

She put her cake down on one of his ridiculously delicate plates. One bite of that thing was quite enough, thank you very much. Unfortunately, Malfoy hadn't provided napkins to clean up the mess, which necessitated licking her fingers clean, too, in a manner that felt vaguely discomfiting under his level gaze. When she glanced back at him, she saw that slight, amused smile widen to a full grin.

"Stop it," she told him, knowing well that she shouldn't even acknowledge him, but unable to curb her reaction to that smirk of his. It got to her, every time.

"Stop what?" he countered, grinning.

"You know what." Teasing her, flirting in his outrageous manner, making her think of moments of weakness that she'd rather not remember, nevermind that she had brought all this on with her remark in the first place. Malfoy had no tact.

"But it's so much fun."

Fun, yes. They'd come a long way to admit that, she thought, folding her sticky hands in her lap with a sense of prayerful desperation. Everything would be easier if they hadn't begun to rely on each other for their life's amusement. It had been so easy to be annoyed with him, once; not that her life had been particularly happy at the time, memorable only for the creativity of Malfoy's barbs, but it had been simpler.

She wasn't willing to make their situation even more complicated just because Malfoy thought it'd be _fun_. And yet she couldn't help wondering-

"We should get to work," she said primly, indicating the lesson plans.

She started back when Malfoy swung up from his deep armchair. He snorted softly, but then just brushed past to retrieve the teapot. "Stern schoolmarm isn't a good look for you. It doesn't fit."

It was one of those compliments cloaked in mockery that she never knew whether to agree with or protest. "Shut up, Malfoy," she retorted, lamely.

He removed the tea sifter, then turned back to her with a flourish, tea spilling from the snout of the pot. "But it really isn't," he persisted. "You've aged about thirty years in the last two minutes."

"Your presence sucks the life from any sane person," Ginny said, rising to her feet so he couldn't talk down to her like he had been.

His pale eyes glittered merrily. He waved a finger in her face. "Look at those frown lines."

Stupidly, her first impulse, when he tipped her head back, wasn't to retreat, but to bite his hand; she barely resisted that urge, then suddenly realised that he was crowding her and hastily moved backwards. Her legs hit the sofa, and Malfoy, damn him, never let a good opportunity pass twice. He parked the teapot to hover, forgotten, in mid-air, wrapped a hand around hers that had come up to push at his chest, and kissed her.

It had been too long; there was nothing like a good snog. That was the only justification she could come up with. The hands she had raised to push him away clutched at his shoulders, and one leg came around the back of his knee to hoist herself up higher. Kissing someone as tall as Malfoy required some acrobatics; she couldn't claim she'd just smacked into his lips by accident when she was doing her best to fuse herself permanently to his chest. It was all his fault, though, as usual, and on that pleasant thought, Ginny's brain shut down. She melted into his embrace, and Malfoy gasped out something that was half moan, half laugh, and brought her closer with his hands on her hips.

The taste of cinnamon tickled her tongue as it tangled with his. Malfoy could appear so harsh when he wanted to, but there was nothing cold or distant about his touch; it burned with barely restrained desire, and she marvelled at it, that feeling that she'd thought long lost within her. The heat between them flared with the spicy taste of their kiss as she pushed back at him at last, meeting him halfway, wanting more, wanting _everything_, and-

There was a loud crash outside his door.

They broke apart, breathing hard. "Who... What... I don't care," Malfoy gasped, "I'm going to _kill those kids_."

He stalked to the door and flung it open, and then all hell broke loose.

* * *

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Some of you had read these few chapter before on my livejournal, glad you felt it was worth reading again over here, too :) I'm sorry there's always a wait between updates, but I hope to post a new chapter very soon as I'm going on vacation and will hopefully have time to write.


	4. Chapter 4

"What," Malfoy said, "what."

The hall outside his office was black with thick smoke. Many pairs of feet stampeded past, but Ginny couldn't see anyone beyond the curtain of darkness. Malfoy sent a lighting spell in the general direction of the torches, but the sparks from his wand fell through the air like shooting stars and disappeared.

"Lumos," Ginny said when the darkness crept over the threshold like a living, breathing beast. The tip of her wand lit up, but it was only a second before the smoke swirled up around her and wrapped her up completely, and she saw nothing. She sucked in a startled breath, a feeling of suffocation rising with the darkness all around her. "Malfoy?"

"God dammit," Malfoy snapped, and Ginny could imagine the sneer that went with the tone of irritation. "Over here."

Ginny felt her way forward to where she expected Malfoy to still be. She felt like the smoke should choke them up, but they could still shout. "Well, it was about time. We've been overdue for a really _brilliant prank_."

The string of profanities Malfoy let out served as a lifeline for her to find him by the door. "When I catch who did this... Ow!"

Ginny had stepped on his toe. "Sorry."

"You should be," he said. "This is all your fault."

"My fault?" she exclaimed. "How?"

"Well, who was it that ordered Darkness Powder for Defence practice?"

"I locked it away in my office!" Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder was forbidden after one too many disrupted lesson, but Ginny should've known a locked door had hardly ever stopped student mischief at Hogwarts.

More footfalls were coming down the hall, hurrying past Malfoy's door.

"Who's there?" Ginny called out, but whoever it was shoved past and disappeared round the next corner.

"Stupefy!" Malfoy yelled. As close to him as she was, Ginny could feel his breath brush her cheek as he dealt out the spell. Out in the hall, there was a thud of a body hitting the floor, and then the shuffle of several pairs of feet tripping over the fallen before catching themselves and running off.

"Accio Hand of Glory," Malfoy snapped, and Ginny felt something whizz past her. A moment later, Malfoy's face appeared in the light of a lone candle, which was held up by a shrivelled, shrunken hand.

"Ew."

"What? It's handy." His face twisted momentarily at the pun, then he held out the candle to illuminate the hall, and they saw a body lying crumpled on the floor. Malfoy's amusement faded as quickly as it had come. "Bloody hell."

Ginny recognised a skinny Slytherin third-year with her hair in messy pigtails. The girl could often be found among Teddy's admiring audience, pink-cheeked in anticipation of mischief, but now she lay on the floor like a broken doll, pale and glassy-eyed. Ginny knelt down beside her. "Olivia? Rennervate!"

The girl stirred, but there was no recognition in her eyes when she looked up at Ginny, as if she was staring right through her. "Easy now," Ginny said, pulling the girl up into a sitting position by her shoulders.

But Olivia clamped a small, surprisingly strong hand around Ginny's wrist and pushed her away. Startled, Ginny let her go. The girl climbed to her feet, movements edgy and stiff, and turned away from the teachers without a word to head back into the darkness of the corridor.

"Oh hell no," Malfoy burst out after a moment's stunned silence. "Where do you think you're going?"

The girl didn't acknowledge him any more than she had Ginny. She walked off, her legs jerking like a puppet's, and disappeared from the small circle of light cast by Malfoy's candle.

Malfoy grabbed Ginny's wrist and pulled her roughly to her feet. "Come on."

They hurried after the girl, who walked briskly down the corridor in spite of the darkness that lingered still, up several flights of stairs and through a doorway. Ahead, there was some commotion; a moment later, Ginny bumped into their charge, who had suddenly stopped in the middle of the hall. Malfoy held up the candle, and they saw a group of students clustering together by the statue of a witch, shoving at each other and at the walls as the crowd grew with more glassy-eyed, unconscious arrivals and the hall was effectively blocked.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" Malfoy demanded.

There was no answer. The crowd swayed as one like a wave crashing against the stone walls left and right, but none of the students spoke. They moved as if with urgent intent, but for all the action, the children were empty-faced and lifeless. Ginny looked into the blank faces around her and shuddered. It was like looking into a void.

"We have to do something!" she burst out, jabbing Malfoy hard with her elbow.

"Like what? The spells aren't working."

"We need to get them to the hospital wing."

"How? You saw it, they won't come quietly."

"So think of something, dammit, Malfoy!" She looked up at him, furious, but when she saw the expression on his face, she knew he wasn't indifferent; quite the contrary.

"I," he said, and broke off as the crowd around them grew more restless. There was a quiet hum in the air that sounded like thunder rolling in the distance, the wordless cry of many voices; the atmosphere around them seemed charged. Malfoy ran a hand through his hair, and Ginny could see that the fine blond strands at the back stood on end. "I don't see why _I_ should have to-

"They're Slytherins." Ginny looked around at the students and only realised then how true it was. "They're _all _Slytherins. All yours."

"No!" Malfoy protested out of sheer habit; then he looked around too and his shoulders slumped. "...They can't be."

Ginny rounded on him. "What the bloody hell goes on in your common room?"

"I don't know, all right! Is that what you wanted to hear? I don't know." Brusquely, he turned away and seized the student closest to him by his Slytherin tie. "What is this, Flanagan? Answer me!"

Ginny pulled at Malfoy's sleeve. "Let him go, can't you see, they're unconscious! He can't answer you!"

But Malfoy's authority seemed to have entered deeply into his students' subconscious. The boy blinked rapidly, cloudy eyes slipping in and out of focus, and slurred, "H-Hogsmeade."

Malfoy shook him none too gently. "What about Hogsmeade?"

"C-c-candy," the boy slurred.

The word passed through the crowd from one child to the next. "Candy," many voices whispered, and the melee seemed to grow more chaotic with the excitement of the secret message. The students pushed at each other, and finally, the statue of the one-eyed witch gave way.

"The secret passageway," Ginny gasped. "It leads into the basement at Honeydukes."

"What is going on?" Malfoy exclaimed, addressing the crowd at large, but of course no one answered. He swore colourfully. "We have no choice. _Petrificus Totalus_!"

The boy he was holding by the collar went rigid. When Malfoy let go of him, the student keeled over, taking a pair of his restless housemates down with him. Malfoy immobilised them, too, then looked expectantly at Ginny. "Get to it before they disappear down the tunnel! I don't fancy rounding up students in Hogsmeade High Street, imagine the uproar!"

Ginny nodded unhappily. The last thing they needed was for a student prank to be blown out of proportion by some nosy gossip; the headmistress was proud that Hogwarts news hadn't made the front page of the Daily Prophet in almost a year, since that incident with the love potion spill and Professor Sprout's venomous, lovesick tentacula. At least they'd gotten a good laugh out of that one even if Malfoy complained about the bruises for weeks.

This here now was no laughing matter. Reluctantly, Ginny raised her wand and petrified the students around her, easing their fall with cushioning charms. She and Malfoy worked their way through the crowd with grim purpose. The children, where they even noticed what was going on, showed feeble resistance, but none of them were able to properly defend themselves. Ginny shuddered to think of the consequences this prank could have had in a setting where it was not as easily contained.

By the time they were finished, some two dozen students lay on the floor, and Ginny was breathless and exhausted, drenched in sweat. Knocking them out was for the kids' own good, sure, but she still felt supremely awful for it. "We need more people to get them all up to the hospital wing." She wasn't even sure Madam Pomfrey had enough beds set up to receive this many students at once.

Malfoy looked as tired of the job as she felt just then. "Let's take up a couple of them and get the headmistress on the way."

They set some wards so no one would stumble upon the unconscious Slytherins and feel inspired to more mischief, then they levitated two boys down the hall and around the corner as gently as possible. Unfortunately, it was still early enough that students lingered in the hallways, chatting to their friends from other houses before turning in for the night. Surprised muttering rose all around them as Ginny and Malfoy levitated two rigid bodies up the stairs in the direction of the hospital.

A group of Gryffindor boys was busy setting up a bunch of Decoy Detonators in a dark corner off the hallway. They interrupted their work to point and laugh at the two petrified Slytherins. "What did _they_ get up to?" one of them crowed.

"Never you mind, Johnny," Ginny said firmly. The four of them glanced at each other and snickered.

"I fail to see what's so funny," Malfoy snapped.

"Oh, it's-" The boy broke off at a quelling look from Ginny. "Anyway, when Madam Pomfrey's set them right, could you tell them to join us down here, Professor Weasley?"

Ginny didn't know if Madam Pomfrey could heal them, and even if the matron did, not even the Slytherins deserved to be the butt of another joke tonight. "You four should be in the common room by now. Off you go!" she told the group in parting.

She sighed deeply with relief as she and Malfoy rounded a corner to walk down a corridor that was mercifully empty. Sweat trickled down her spine in a shiver, an old, almost-forgotten sense of dread descending upon her. The worst she'd seen in her years as a teacher had been a few broken bones from Quidditch practice and the inevitable spells-gone-wrong that caused the occasional nose to fall off. She would prefer if it stayed that way.

"Hey. Steady." Malfoy's hand closed around hers, righting her wand, and Ginny realized that she was trembling hard enough to make the boy she was levitating wobble dangerously in the air. She glanced at Malfoy. His face was grim, too, but he said, "Don't look so glum, Weasley. Do you really think this is something sinister?"

Strange didn´t automatically mean sinister, but Ginny had an odd feeling that she couldn´t yet explain. "I don't know. Could be. What do you think?"

He shrugged. "Could be mischief."

"You think they're pretending?"

"No, I think someone might've played a prank."

She snorted. "If they did, it's not a very funny prank, is it."

"Are they ever?" He gave her a look. "Your jokester brothers had a nasty sense of humour too, though everybody seemed to think they were so clever."

"Fred and George were geniuses," Ginny said loyally. "They never hurt anyone. Well, not permanently," she amended when Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"We don't even know yet what's wrong with these kids," he said bracingly. "Might not be permanent."

She glanced at his profile, dark against the glow of the torches behind him, wondering if Malfoy was indifferent or if he just couldn't bear to be cynical this time. She'd never known him to look on the bright side. That he would now didn't make her feel better, though; not one bit.

The first time she remembered Malfoy ever showing any sort of human feeling had come under pressure, and at the time, Ginny had been too busy being worried sick about her students to be properly shocked.

There'd been an outing to the Forbidden Forest during Care of Magical Creatures, which, in retrospect, had been a bad idea even for Hagrid. When he came stomping out of the forest at dusk, wailing and missing half his class, no one remembered having given permission for the trip in the first place: neither the headmistress nor the Heads of House and certainly not the parents. More likely than not, Hagrid had come up with the harebrained idea over a tankard of ale down at the Three Broomsticks, and no one had paid enough attention to stop him. After all, nothing had happened at Hogwarts in years, and the stroke of good luck had lulled them all into a false sense of security.

It had been wrong to become complacent. But what was done was done, and so Ginny had found herself wandering through the dark forest at midnight, her fingers clammy as she held up her wand for light, periodically shouting the kids' names. Somewhere to her right, she could hear Professor Flitwick do the same. Malfoy was supposed to comb the woods to her left, but she hadn't heard him in almost an hour; he'd probably gotten tired of doing extra hours and gone back to the smelly hideout that he called his office.

The wind had picked up, singing in the branches of the ancient trees, an eerie whistle to match the creeping darkness closing in around her as the night wore on. She shivered, and not just from the cold, knowing the real dangers that lurked in the forest along with the imagined ones of the children's bedtime stories. What had Hagrid been thinking, leaving the kids to wander around by themselves? What had she been thinking, believing herself to be fit for a teacher, responsible for her students' wellbeing when she couldn't even take care of herself, when her sore wand arm was a constant reminder of her failure to see through the things she supposedly wanted-

"Weasley!"

Ginny remembered the tone of his voice because it was the first time she'd heard anything other from him than his disdainful drawl. Malfoy's shout had been loud and clear, full of panic or excitement, she couldn't say, and it had made Ginny's heart leap. She'd torn through the underbrush that scratched her legs bloody, running towards him with the air burning in her lungs and her own voice just a squeak of relief as she shouted back at him, "I'm here, I'm coming!"

"Weasley, hurry up!"

Somewhere in the twilight of the last few, anxious hours, he'd come out of his shell of hatred; he'd come alive. Her heart beating furiously with elation, Ginny had thought that he sounded like an actual person; an actual person who was going to face whatever they found along with her. She hadn't realised how alone she'd felt in the darkness until she'd heard Malfoy's voice; now that she had, she didn't want him to go quiet again. In years to come, when he'd go on and on about some imagined slight and she'd wish him far away, she'd think of this moment, forever etched into her memory.

"Where are you?"

"Over here."

A light had flickered on at the edge of her vision. Ginny bolted towards it, the golden glow a blur before her eyes, and found Malfoy in a clearing between some massive oak trees. He'd looked smaller, she'd thought, kneeling on the mossy ground, huddled over a weeping little girl.

"It's all right," Malfoy had said over and over as the girl had cried hysterically into the front of his robes. His pinched face was slack with relief. "Professor Weasley's here now, you can let go of me."

"N-n-no," the girl wailed. "I don't want h-her, she's _friends_ with P-p-professor H-Hagrid."

"But I…" Malfoy had trailed off and looked at Ginny with an air of helpless befuddlement. "Do something!"

Panting, Ginny hugged her arms around her aching sides. "You look okay." She noticed a bunch of wide-eyed kids hiding behind a fallen tree trunk, peeking out at the sound of her voice. "You all look okay." Relief flooded through her until she felt choked up with it. "Malfoy, you found them!"

"Yes, yes, I found them," he said impatiently, then mouthed at her, "Get her off me!"

Ginny had laughed then for sheer happiness. Malfoy had looked like he would've hexed her if not for the kid clinging to him, but he stayed put, the damp soaking through the knees of his expensive trousers and snot gathering on his lapel.

"This is not what I signed up for." It was the first, but definitely not the last time he'd tell her that. "I don't even need this job."

Neither of them had planned for anything like this; neither of them had been prepared to _care_. That night, they had understood each other. Ginny had crouched down to pat the little girl on the back and shared a look with Malfoy over the child's head. "You don't need it, but they need you."

The girl had nodded vigorously against Malfoy's chest. "We were s-so s-scared," she hiccoughed. "Professor Hagrid didn't care. No one cares about us, Professor Malfoy!"

With a great sigh that hinted at all the wrongs he suffered, and about which he would complain later over the first of many cups of tea, Malfoy had resigned himself to his fate. "I know, Mary," he said, "I know," and Ginny had believed that he did.

Even now, the memory made her smile. She elbowed Malfoy, which made the student he was levitating bob up and down in the air. "Do you remember when the first-years got lost in the Forbidden Forest?"

"Yes; that was a hoot, wasn't it." He looked at the unconscious boys, a shadow passing over his face. "It's always Slytherins. Don't tell me that's a coincidence."

"Hagrid didn't lose them on purpose. Besides, you rescued some Hufflepuffs that night, too."

"Don't remind me; I may have messed with natural selection there," he snorted. "My kids would've been all right. They always are. Big fuss for nothing."

They could only hope so.

Madam Pomfrey wrung her hands when they brought the pair of students up to her infirmary. "Is there something in the water?"

"Could be; there's twenty more of them downstairs, all sleepwalking. Well, they're not going anywhere now, we immobilised them," Ginny said, laying her student down on the first available bed, next to an unconscious Teddy. Her wand arm ached when she finally dropped it.

"Let's see what we have here. _Finite!_" But the moment Madam Pomfrey ended the petrifying spell, the Slytherin boy began to thrash in his bed, struggling to get to his feet. "Dear me! Hold him down, please."

Ginny and Malfoy restrained the boy while the matron hurried off to rummage through a large cupboard. Even with magic, it was a struggle to keep him in bed. Ginny watched with anxious eyes as Madam Pomfrey tried potions and tonics, then a few basic healing spells, but there was no change.

"Now that did a lot of good," Malfoy said sarcastically when a jar of smelling salts had been tried and discarded without effect.

Madam Pomfrey glared at him. "Why don't you take yourself outside, Mr Malfoy, and let me look after my patients in peace?" She administered a healthy dose of the sleeping draught she had given Teddy earlier, and the boy finally quieted down.

"We will be back with the others, Madam Pomfrey." Ginny seized Malfoy's arm and dragged him out into the hall, where the air didn't smell of potions and illness. A fresh breeze drifted in through the open windows, the night air still cool even with summer approaching. Ginny breathed deeply, feeling sick inside. She'd seen this too often, people lying in these hospital beds, pale like ghosts and just as lifeless. But it wasn't like that now, surely. It couldn't be.

They set off in the direction of the headmistress's office, but they didn't have to go far: McGonagall met them halfway to the infirmary. "There's students wandering the corridors," she said without preamble, looking harried and impatient. "They appear to be-"

"Sleepwalking?" Malfoy moaned. "Don't tell me there's more of them?"

"I found three outside my office and locked them in the cupboard there; they wouldn't stop wandering off," McGonagall said. "You've found some, too?"

They quickly related what they'd observed about the gathering of students by the statue of the one-eyed witch, their suspicions about pranksters in the Slytherin common room, and the five students already up in the hospital wing. The headmistress appeared shocked, but gathered her wits immediately. "I will summon the rest of the staff to help me get the students to Madam Pomfrey. You, Mr Malfoy, will please round up the rest of your House so we can get a head count. Miss Weasley, check if the other Houses really aren't affected. We must have order!"

Ginny couldn't agree more.

While Malfoy went to take attendance in his common room, she looked in to Gryffindor Tower and found her students all present and not a little curious about what was going on. Word spread like wildfire at Hogwarts when something noteworthy happened, and half of Slytherin House being knocked out by a 'brilliant prank' was the cause of some schadenfreude. With firm orders to stay inside the tower, Ginny left to talk to Professor Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff, and Professor Flitwick, who was in charge of the Ravenclaws.

The only ones who'd fallen ill were the Slytherins. There was a joke somewhere in that, but Ginny didn't feel too amused.

"How many?" she asked when she met Malfoy back upstairs outside the hospital doors.

He looked paler than usual. "Thirty-two. Out of eighty-seven. _Fuck_."

Were there only eighty-seven Slytherins? They were a boisterous bunch, so the Houses had always seemed balanced to Ginny, but there were almost twice as many students in Gryffindor. Suddenly, she felt kind of sorry for Malfoy and his kids. "It's not your fault," she told him, patting his arm a little.

He flinched back like she'd tried to curse him. "I didn't ask for your opinion!" he snapped, the air of defeat falling off him with a rush of sudden, hot anger that seemed to give him new life, but Ginny knew him well enough now, knew what he was thinking and what it was doing to him.

Once upon a time, she'd lived to inflict misery on Malfoy; now she couldn't stand to see him so wretchedly unhappy. What was happening to her, to them? Carefully, she reached out again and caught one of his balled fists between her palms. "It's not your fault," she said and, on impulse, rose up on tiptoes to kiss the tight, downturned corner of his mouth.

Malfoy didn't fire up again, but his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry about your students," she said sincerely.

He drew back from her, but didn't shake off her touch again. "Yeah, well, I don't want a pity snog."

Ginny didn't know that it was; she couldn't have explained it to him any more than to herself, but what she did know was that he needed her on his side right now. "Are you sure about that?"

"Gods, Weasley, of all the bloody times to be flirtatious-"

"Malfoy, shut up, we can argue later." She squeezed his hand. "What can we do now? About the kids?"

"I don't know." Brusquely, he turned away, his fingers slipping from her grasp, and went to sit down on the top step of the nearest staircase, his back to her.

Ginny watched him for a few moments, slumped over with his elbows braced on his knees like he was going to be sick. She went and crouched down next to him, folding up her legs under her skirt. "I meant it. It's not your fault."

He sighed deeply. "No one's going to care, are they? They're going to blame me anyway."

It was true. They sat in silence for a while, catching their breath, listening to Madam Pomfrey rush about behind the infirmary doors. Up here, all was quiet now; only a slight buzz of many voices drifted up from the halls below.

"They'll be all right," Malfoy said at length, to himself more than to her. "No one has been killed here in _ages_."

When she glanced over, Ginny could see him swallow hard with the bitter aftertaste of the joke, but not going along with it would've been unbearable. For all her end-of-term fatigue, the only truly dreadful thing about being a teacher was seeing something happen to the kids in her care. "Right," she said, straightening up and nudging Malfoy's shoulder with hers. "So what now?"

"Nothing we can do for them." He jerked his head towards the infirmary door. "Let's go somewhere we _can_ do something."

Unsurprisingly, Malfoy's idea of boosting morale involved a fair bit of bribery. With sufficient amounts of candy – "from my own stock, Weasley, do you think I'm an idiot? Oh, never mind!" – they managed to persuade even the most jittery Hufflepuffs to calm down and retreat to their beds in a halfway orderly fashion.

The headmistress and the rest of the teachers patrolled the corridors, searching for more errand Slytherins. It was nearing midnight by the time the staff congregated in the hospital for an assessment of the situation.

"Thirty-two students of Slytherin House have been taken ill. They have all been sedated and are now under Madam Pomfrey's care," the headmistress summed up. She looked at Malfoy with tired eyes. "I will have to notify their parents."

Malfoy stood over Teddy Lupin's sleeping form, his hands braced against the foot of the bed. His eyes never left the sleeping boy, but his fists clenched around the metal bedframe.

"Can't it wait until morning?" Ginny asked the headmistress. "If it's a prank product that caused this, the effects should wear off by then, it's nothing unusual-"

"But the scope of it is quite unheard of," McGonagall sighed. "And I'm afraid there is some more news. Professor Singh?"

All eyes turned to the rotund little Potions master. Unlike his predecessors, surly Professor Snape and self-important Slughorn, he was a jolly fellow, but now, his chubby cheeks seemed to droop as he frowned.

"As I was helping Madam Pomfrey administer the sleeping draught, I found something quite serious." He held up the wrapper of a chocolate frog, which looked innocuous enough. "One of the students had this in his pocket, and they were all muttering about candy, so I did a few quick revealing spells. There are traces of a substance that's... Well, I wouldn't expect to find it in chocolates. The best I can tell you, it's strong and quite intoxicating. That might account for their strange behaviour."

The words turned Ginny's stomach as if she, too, had swallowed some foul potion.

"They've been drugged?" The news didn't sound any better when Malfoy put it like that.

"That's what it looks like." Professor Singh mopped his brow, where sweat had gathered at the edge of his enormous turban. "I can't tell you more, not before I've broken down the ingredients. It would help if I had a sample, not just the wrapper."

Nodding, Malfoy straightened up. "I'll go round up whoever's left of my Prefects, make them search the common room for leftovers."

"Tell them to be careful," McGonagall warned. "We don't need more students to fall victim to this...this..." She looked around at the rest of them, but no one dared give a name to the situation. A prank? Certainly not. A crime? Ginny shuddered.

"I'll come," she told Malfoy, nodding towards the staircase that would lead them down to the dungeons. "Help you find the rest of that candy."

"Bring it to my laboratory when you find it." Professor Singh looked mournfully at the chocolate wrapper. "Who would poison children's candy? Is nothing sacred?"

The good professor hadn't been at Hogwarts long enough to witness the true horrors of what could befall children, but still, the crestfallen look on his cheerful face was hard to bear even for those who had.

"Toffee, Professor?" Ginny held out one of Malfoy's bags of candy, which contained the meagre leftovers that the Hufflepuffs hadn't devoured.

Professor Singh smiled slightly. "Don't mind if I do. Did you know that toffees are a powerful potion ingredient? One of my favourites, actually. At the right temperature, they melt to become a-"

Malfoy made a noise that was somewhere between a moan and a growl. He pushed off Teddy's bed and strode out without another word to his colleagues, leaving them to look after him in surprise.

"Excuse me," Ginny said, and hurried to follow him.

He was halfway down the stairs before she caught up. "Hey, Malfoy-"

"Offer me toffees and I'll curse you, Weasley," he snapped.

"I'm sorry, it's just, Professor Singh hasn't been here that long, he hasn't seen half of what we have-"

"He's not cut out for this job. Professor Snape would've..." He broke off, scowling. "Actually, no one would've dared touch the kids in Slytherin if Professor Snape was still here."

"No one would have dared…?" Ginny looked at him, surprised. "You don't think it was one of your own?"

Malfoy gave her a sharp look. "One of my own?"

"Well, it all started with _your_ candy in _your_ common room, didn't it."

A hot pink blush crept into his pale cheeks. "Just because it's my kids, just because they're Slytherins-"

"Well, we've got to start somewhere-"

"Not in my house." Malfoy's tone brooked no argument. "It's not any of mine. You're their teacher, aren't you supposed to be on their side?"

"Look-" Ginny snapped, but he shook his head angrily.

"How's it so hard to imagine that someone might be going after my kids if even you hold a grudge against Slytherin?"

"I don't...!" Chastened, Ginny gave up on protesting that one and said instead, "That's not what I meant."

"Well, that's how it sounded."

"Don't be so touchy, Malfoy, god." They enjoyed a few moments of baleful glaring at each other before she continued, more gently, "If it's someone not from your house, how d'you suppose they got into your candy bowls?"

"It's too easy now, isn't it," Malfoy said, his face set in sharp lines of displeasure. "What with the headmistress's open house policy and all? Hell, those Gryffindor boys of yours practically live in my common room these days."

"My third years? _That_ is where they go off to?"

"No need to sound so scandalised, the worst they get up to is copying homework, as far as I can tell."

"I'm not-" Ginny said, and stopped. She _was_ a little disappointed with her students, but only because they'd felt the need to be sneaky about where they went whenever her back was turned. Why they would bother to hide a friendship with the boys from other houses, she didn't know. What sort of example had she set for them, always openly fighting with Malfoy? "It's just that they made such a show of disappearing, I thought there'd be more of a mystery," she said ruefully. "In my time, when we sneaked out of our dorms it was literally life-and-death."

"Be careful what you wish for," Malfoy said, and then he walked right into a wall.

It took Ginny a moment to realise that Malfoy's sense of direction hadn't been set off by stress: they had arrived at the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Despite not needing passwords anymore, Slytherin House remained well-hidden to anyone who did not know where to look behind a bare stretch of wall. The stones slid aside at a touch of Malfoy's outstretched hand, and he and Ginny entered the common room to tumultuous chatter by what looked like the whole remaining House.

"Professor Malfoy, what's going on?"

"What happened to the others?"

"Can you just-"

"We need to-"

"Silence," Malfoy barked, and surprisingly, the students actually did quiet down. In their pyjamas, without the armour of their Slytherin insignia, they looked young and vulnerable to Ginny, most of them only first and second-years. They were just children, she thought, fighting the urge to go up to Malfoy and tell him to stop scowling; he'd only make them more scared.

"Your housemates are in the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey is taking care of them. Go to bed now, all of you, I expect you to make up for the others' absence tomorrow in collecting House Points, and you need to be rested for that." Malfoy surveyed the too-small group before him, but his imperious mask slipped; he just looked tired. "Are any of the Prefects left?"

"Here, sir," two boys spoke up from the back of the room, where they'd been doing their best to blend into the ancient tapestry behind them. One of them was the pimply Wilkes whom Malfoy had sent off on errands earlier. Had that been only a few hours ago?

"I have a job for you. Off to bed with everyone else!"

Reluctantly, the kids shuffled off to their dormitories, casting furtive glances back at Malfoy and Ginny. The two prefects approached warily at an impatient gesture by Malfoy.

"Right. Boys, we have to find all the candy that's been sitting out in the common room – all of it – and get it to Professor Singh. Don't eat any of it, it's been poisoned," Malfoy told them unceremoniously.

Ginny elbowed him hard. "It might have been tampered with," she corrected when she saw the boys exchange worried looks. "We don't know yet. Can you get what's left of it?"

Muttering among themselves, the pair went off to turn over the couch cushions, picking through the empty candy wrappers they found there with long fingers as if they suspected their hands would instantly rot off on contact. Occasionally they looked back at Ginny and Malfoy, then quickly away again.

"You're not supposed to incite panic," Ginny told Malfoy in an undertone as she fished a string of candy floss from the mouth of a huge suit of armour.

"I'm just telling it like it is."

"Do the children really need to know?"

Malfoy didn't immediately reply. "They need to know," he said at length. "If we keep them in the dark, they'll only end up doing something stupid."

Ginny desperately wanted to say something that would make him stop looking so glum, something comforting, but that hadn't gone over so well earlier; it'd only upset him more. She felt around for a light remark, finally settling on, "This place is very grand."

No doubt, the Slytherin common room was fancy. Green brocade draperies covered the bare stone walls, and every ornate plaque, silk tapestry or ornamental mirror was adorned by the House crest. Dark leather furniture was clustered around the room, not as cosy and inviting as the plush sofas in Gryffindor Tower, but grouped together closely the better to sit together and plot mischief. The green glow of the interior was intensified by the dim light that filtered through the depths of the great lake which lay just behind the windows. A faint gurgle of water could be heard through the walls; it was soothing.

She had been down here before, but Ginny had never felt comfortable intruding on Malfoy's turf; first she'd been wary of getting her nose hexed off, and then… And then. In any case, there had never been an excuse to take a closer look at all the knickknacks that sat on the mantelpiece over the fire or on the enormous black cupboards. On her hunt for leftover candy, Ginny examined a jar of dried beetles. It gave off an ominous hum, and she put it down cautiously. "Are these just for decoration?"

"I suppose so, they've been here for at least twenty years," Malfoy said, barely glancing at her before he went back to shaking out the curtains.

"And all the skulls?" Not just a few of them were scattered all around the room.

She could hear him snorting softly. "They're from all the Gryffindors we've secretly murdered down here over the centuries, Weasley. Naturally."

Ginny wondered idly why she always had to be the one to suffer his anger; maybe it was just that that was easier than directing his rage at the nameless, faceless threat against his children. She could understand that, but his sarcasm still got under her skin like a splinter, itching and not leaving her alone. She crossed the room to where he was upending a cupboard of school supplies, glancing past him at the prefects, who were making a big show of carrying out Malfoy's orders while surreptitiously watching the teachers. "I'm just trying to help you, you tool."

He did look at her then, annoyance sparking in his pale eyes. "By accusing Slytherins of poisoning each other?" He picked candy bars from between inkpots and scrolls of parchment and began to toss them behind him over his shoulder.

"You have to admit the idea's not that far-fetched. And I'd say this here," she scraped a chewed wad of gum from the bottom of the cupboard, "is me making amends."

Malfoy made a face. "I was going to have a cup of tea and devise game strategies," he said mournfully, "While you sat and moaned about grading papers. That was the plan for tonight." He glanced at her, and suddenly, he smirked his annoying smirk, which might have been welcome for the reprieve it brought from doom and gloom, if only Ginny hadn't known exactly what that particular look of his preceded. Her stomach fluttered with dreadful anticipation as he said, "Well. It was _one part_ of the plan for tonight."

Stupidly, the image before Ginny's mental eye looked entirely too cosy. She found herself wishing them there, into his comfortable office, where they'd argue late into the night about his illegible notes over a cup of sweet, fragrant tea, and then, when they ran out of insults-

She quickly clamped down on that thought, feeling her face grow hot as she said, "Whenever I join you for tea and crumpets and impolite chitchat, I end up doing stupid things. And I'm tired of feeling stupid."

"I don't think stupid is the right word."

There were many words to describe how she felt; life with him was a mixed bag, quite like a helping of Every Flavour Beans – sweet and sour, bitter and spicy, and always surprising – but the candy metaphor was entirely inappropriate and not just while they were hunting for leftovers of poisoned sweets. Ginny didn't particularly want to go there.

Malfoy, of course, would be contrary if it killed him. "Just admit that you like it, Weasley."

Damned if she did; damned if she didn't. "Look, Malfoy, I don't think this is the right time for...any of that."

He gave her a sidelong glance. "When will it ever be the right time?"

Ginny didn't have an answer to that. What would they be doing, how far would things have gone, if someone else had been there tonight to deal with student trouble instead? Considering the answer to that question took her mind down a well-travelled path that ultimately led to one single, mortifying conclusion. Hastily, she said, "Well, definitely not when we have an epidemic to worry about."

"There's always going to be _something_." His voice was cool again, devoid of emotion in a manner that might have suggested indifference in anyone else, but Malfoy's anger burned cold, like ice.

Ginny knew that voice well, and she steeled herself against it when she said, "Probably."

"And you'd let that stop you?" he sneered.

"Can we just...not?" she pleaded, tired of fighting for once, with him and with herself. "Let sleeping dragons lie and all that."

He snorted harshly. "Funny you'd say that, because-"

"Don't." She didn't think she could handle his innuendo just then. "Let's just not talk about it. Ever."

"Fine. Let's not talk."

Before she could brace herself, he'd seized her hand and dragged her to her feet. The prefects started as Ginny and Malfoy popped up from behind the cupboard door, and quickly looked away as if they'd been searching pencil cases for sugar quills all along. "Boys, when you're done, lock away all the sweets so no one eats any. I'll take a sample to Professor Singh."

He dragged Ginny from the common room to surprised glances from the prefects, never letting go of her hand. Shamefully, Ginny found herself hoping that the gossips among the seventh-year Slytherin girls were among those up at the hospital wing, then immediately felt awful for thinking such a thing and directed her annoyance at Malfoy instead.

"What do you think you're-"

He spun around, his momentum turning them in a circle. Ginny found herself being backed into a dark corner off the main corridor and stumbled gracelessly over her own feet, clutching at Malfoy's robes in reflex and dragging him forward, against her. The wall at her back was cold and hard; she arched off it and found Malfoy warm and surprisingly pliant before her. He curled his long body around her so his face hovered just above hers, and whispered, "I changed my mind. I'll take that pity snog."

There had never been sense or reason to her attraction to Malfoy, so there was no point reasoning against it. Oh, Ginny had tried, but she only ever succeeded in convincing herself when she was alone with her traitorous desire, never when he was this close, fanning the flames of it. "Malfoy-" she started, but then his lips were on hers and no word of protest would come. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

It was not the time and certainly not the place: the wall behind her was damp, and the corridor all too public. Still, when he cradled her head in his hand and kissed her _just so_, Ginny didn't notice anything around them. He kissed her with the urgency of long-denied need, like he was starved for touch and could never get enough. Even when he pulled back, it was only to bring her closer: his hands found their way under her robe and stroked down over the worn cotton of her dress, along the curve of her waist to her hips, drawing her into his body.

In the darkness of their alcove, she couldn't really see him, only his eyes glittering and the pale halo of his fair hair around the darker silhouette of his face. For a moment, they stared at each other, a look passing between them that shot through her like the most masterful spell could make her body hum with magic. Ginny ached with it, and knew exactly now where this would go if she didn't gather her wits.

There were footfalls in the distance, appearing around the corner and then fading down a hallway. A door banged somewhere far away. "Malfoy," she whispered, "I... We can't. We have our hands full as it is."

His hand came to rest lightly on one of her breasts, right over her wildly beating heart. "I certainly do."

She moaned at the lame joke; but then again, from the feel of it, he didn't have much blood left in his brain at that moment. "With all that's going on tonight, just think-"

"No," he said fiercely, "Just for five minutes, I'd like to not think about that at all."

There was desperation in his touch when he clutched at her, drawing her legs up and around his hips so he sank into the full embrace of her body. He bowed his head, and she felt him rest his forehead against her shoulder for a moment like he was very, very tired. Ginny teetered on the brink of indecision, the thought of tomorrow warring with the blissful feeling of now. His breath was cool, preceding the heat of his lips as he found a ticklish spot between her neck and shoulder. She tilted her head, trapping him against her shoulder with their cheeks pressed together, and for a moment sought her own place of rest in the breadth of space between them, this new kind of togetherness that was so unfamiliar, so untainted yet by the memories of harsh words and unkind actions.

He needed this, but maybe she did, too.

"You're-" he began hoarsely.

"Shh. Don't spoil it," she whispered, tipping his head up so she could kiss the words from his lips.

She felt that he was smiling. "Don't think I could."

Could it be this easy, she wondered, mapping out the shape of his smiling mouth with her lips. Could this be how they were together, even out of the shadows, even in broad daylight, for everyone to see? "Don't sell yourself short."

"No. You're just too bloody perfect."

Ginny tightened her legs around his hips, wondering wildly what it would take to shut him up, to make him stop teasing her. It would be the downfall of her, trying to find out; already she was struggling to retain her tenuous grip on her self-control, hurtling past any of her own boundaries at breakneck speed. She'd been fighting a feeling that was like a force of nature, and finally, she had grown tired of the effort. It was like riding a broomstick into an oncoming storm and expecting to turn the winds so they'd take her where she wanted to go. It would be so good to just give in, let go, see where it would take her—

"Ginny-"

Moaning, she threw herself forward into his arms and the kisses she secretly craved, the relief of it sheer overwhelming. She'd never been good at passively waiting her turn, for things to go her way; she wanted to act and she'd wanted to do _this_ for a long time. Admitting to it now, there was none of the doubt she'd feared, none of the awkwardness of realising she'd make a mistake. It was _good_.

Malfoy staggered back with a surprised laugh, but he did not let her go. His hands tightened on her hips, and he returned her kiss with a breathless delight that matched her own.

The footfalls returned.

Swearing, Ginny drew back and let her legs drop to the floor. Their passion had carried them back into the main hall, and now they stood in broad view of anyone coming by. She glanced left and right down the corridor, but there were no curious eyes watching; only Malfoy's pale ones, intent on her face and warm like liquid silver.

She'd never seen him look like that. Over anything that had happened over the past few minutes, it was that level gaze that made her blush now, but she held his eyes even as she said, "Did you hear anything?"

"Yes. Someone's coming."

Surely enough, a lanky seventh-year boy appeared around a corner a moment later. He looked at them blankly, as if he'd expected nothing less than the Heads of Gryffindor and Slytherin Houses cavorting in a hallway together, looking thoroughly dishevelled. Ginny blushed more deeply. She and Malfoy really had to have a reputation by now.

Malfoy, too, looked startled. "Hathaway? What are you doing here? Off to the common room with you _now_," he snapped. "It's mayhem around here, I don't want you wandering the castle at night."

Nodding silently, the boy hurried off and disappeared through the entrance to the common room.

"Now, where were we?" Malfoy, it appeared, had recovered enough of his composure to affect his smug drawl.

Ginny shook her head at him with a sense of fondness. "We _were_ supposed to get the candy to Singh."

"Right." Sighing, he straightened his collar, which sat askew. "I'd almost forgotten all about that mess."

They were always trading one mess for the next; it was a fact of life. "That was the whole point, wasn't it?" she shrugged.

"I suppose." He looked at her shrewdly. "We're not done."

Something about those words rubbed her the wrong way; or maybe it was the way he was looking at her, sizing her up as if he didn't quite know what to make of her now. The warmth in his eyes was gone, and now they were just his colourless grey. She stepped back a few steps. "I didn't know the goal was to get 'done'."

At that, he smiled. "Well, let's say the goal is not to stop once things get...interesting."

Ginny didn't know if they could stop next time. What was she getting herself into? She hugged her arms around herself, suddenly noticing how cold it was down here in the dungeons. "Come on," she said, "let's get to the lab."

Despite his sunny personality, Professor Singh had kept the old Potions classroom in the dungeons, his reasoning being that the damp, dark underground conditions lent themselves perfectly to brewing volatile potions. The laboratory was close, and the two of them managed to not speak a single word on the way, which had to be a record, Ginny thought.

Malfoy had made his intentions clear; or had he? Things had seemed easy while they were touching, but now, Ginny's clarity of mind was quickly becoming muddled again. This was what she'd feared in her more sensible moments, when she wasn't daydreaming about snogging Malfoy's brains out or busy doing just that. Things would become complicated and awkward, and she couldn't afford losing her only friend; especially not at a time like this.

They truly had other things to worry about, but she didn't know half of it until they came up to Professor Singh's laboratory door. Smoke was wafting into the hallway; the door, which was usually secured, stood open. Ginny peered inside the lab and promptly choked on the breath she'd inhaled.

"Malfoy!" she coughed.

Pressing a handkerchief to his nose, Malfoy looked, and saw. "Professor?"

The Potions master lay prone by his work station, lifeless and limp, and for a moment Ginny feared that he was dead. She pointed her wand at the vents in the ceiling so the smoke could escape. Professor Singh's cauldron had boiled over, spilling its contents onto the hearth. Vials and test tubes had burst over smaller flames on his work table. Upon closer inspection, the man appeared to be breathing shallowly, but no reviving spell or charm that Ginny tried could rouse him.

Her eyes watered. "What is this? Was it the...the toffee I gave him?"

"No, that was never in circulation in the common room. This must've been something different." Malfoy touched Professor Singh's leg with the tip of his boot. The Potions master didn't stir. "Maybe this was too much for him. Stress can-"

"Stress?" Ginny exclaimed. "He didn't keel over from stress. Do you want to see what stress looks like?"

"I can see it," Malfoy snorted, and then suddenly, there was a hint of that intensity in his eyes again as he looked at her with inappropriate amusement.

With difficulty, Ginny suppressed a shiver. "This is not the time to be having fun at my expense," she said, frowning. "This is not the time to be having fun, period."

And now they only had to remember that.


	5. Chapter 5

Professor Singh's sudden collapse remained a mystery. Upon Madam Pomfrey's examination, no injuries could be found, and the poor potions master woke to no reviving spell or counter curse. The matron surmised that he'd been poisoned by the fumes of whatever he'd been distilling, but he was in worse shape than the kids and so she was hesitant to experiment with antidotes. A solution of bezoar brought a little colour back to his face, but the professor did not wake over the next few hours and so the situation looked dire.

The children's condition hadn't improved by morning, either. The students remained asleep in their beds under the influence of Madam Pomfrey's potions. When roused, they started struggling and thrashing around, anxious to fulfil some secret purpose. "Candy," was a constant whisper on the air, and Ginny began to suspect that they'd been looking for their prankster in the wrong place.

Worry had kept her awake and pacing the corridor outside the infirmary after Madam Pomfrey had thrown her and Malfoy out with very strict instructions to get some rest. Malfoy had eventually gone down to his House to be with his students, but Ginny was paying for ignoring the matron's advice with a terrible headache.

At least the alone time had allowed her to think. The children's bizarre behaviour was first and foremost on her mind, but now and then, she found her thoughts drifting to what had happened with Malfoy. Their first kiss, months ago, she could have written off as temporary insanity, the second as an extension of their comfortable banter, a challenge to try and get the upper hand. The kisses they'd shared last night in the darkness of the dungeons hadn't been comfortable or familiar. She and Malfoy had come together like stars colliding, exploding on impact to create a new world. Now, in the light of a new day, Ginny wasn't sure where she stood anymore.

She tried to put it out of her mind for the moment as she went to check on her students in Gryffindor Tower, then to find the headmistress. McGonagall wasn't in her office, but on her way to the headmistress's rooms, Ginny stumbled upon the older woman talking to Malfoy, who looked pale and exhausted like he hadn't slept any more than Ginny.

McGonagall's wizened face was set in deep lines of displeasure. "…standard procedure by the board of governors," Ginny heard the headmistress say as she came closer.

"That's rubbish and you know it!" Malfoy's voice rose shrilly. "They wouldn't do this to you or Weasley or anyone else!"

McGonagall harrumphed. "It would behove you to be cooperative, _Professor_ Malfoy."

"Something's wrong with those kids, so I must be behind it?"

Ginny stepped out of the shadows of the stairwell to see him sneer at the headmistress, who looked unimpressed with the situation in general and Malfoy in particular. The two of them glared at each other for a few moments until Malfoy pushed off the wall and strode away down the hall.

"You know it's unfair," he snapped in parting. "You _know_!"

The headmistress sighed. Her glance caught on Ginny. "Ah, Professor Weasley. You heard...?"

"Only the last bit. What happened?" She looked down the long corridor after Malfoy.

"I notified the parents of the students who have fallen ill." McGonagall frowned. "They have wasted no time getting the board of governors to launch an investigation against Mr Malfoy. As the students are all Slytherins, the very least he's being accused of is negligence."

"But that's…" Many awful things could be said about Malfoy, but Ginny didn't think there was a more dedicated Head of House.

"Quite," McGonagall nodded. "Would you go talk to him about it? I have owls to answer."

Ginny didn't have to be asked twice. She hurried after Malfoy, who seemed to speed up as he heard her footfalls behind him until she had to run to catch up with his long-legged strides. "Hey. Wait."

He had his fists buried in his pockets and was scowling at the walls left and right so the portraits that hung there gulped and fled their frames. "And what do _you_ want?"

"You expected this. It's just the same as always, nothing to get worked up about." Angry letters came every year that Malfoy taught Defence Against the Dark Arts, and that was when nothing unusual was even going on. Ginny thought he'd come to accept it as part of the job, courted the controversy, even.

"Yeah," Malfoy said, glaring fixedly at a spot over her head. "Same as always."

Ginny reached for him, the sleeve of his robes slipping through her fingers. "Hey. You know you haven't done anything wrong. I know that. McGonagall knows."

"What does that even matter! No one cares about any of the things I actually do. They think they've got it all figured out anyway." He brushed her hand off his arm. "I try, and... I try."

"I know," she said gently.

"No, you don't." He stopped, but didn't turn around to face her. "Maybe I should quit."

Maybe he should; it might've made life easier for all involved, but when had that ever mattered to him? Ginny rapped him sharply between the shoulder blades. "Your kids would be sad."

"What do I care," he sneered, but it lacked edge. He only sounded frustrated. "Blame their stupid parents when Slytherin doesn't have a Head of House anymore! That's what they get for calling me a former Death Eater-"

"You _are_ a reformed Death Eater."

"That's not the point!" Malfoy turned pink with indignation. "_Full amnesty_ is what they said after the war!"

"I know," Ginny shrugged. "But teaching is always going to be a thankless job."

His mouth twisted grumpily. "And I don't even need a job. Especially not this one." It was a lie he told anyone who'd listen, as familiar and comforting by now as the sun rising in the morning, the prickle of magic just underneath her skin, breathing in and out. In spite of herself, Ginny waited for the rest of it with a sense of fondness.

Malfoy drew breath. "I'm richer than all those idiot parents. I'm probably richer than anyone in Britain."

"So go sit in your vault and count your Galleons all day," Ginny retorted as she usually did.

He glowered at her. "I do _not_ need this job."

She'd never really thought about what other path there might have been for Malfoy after the war. She couldn't imagine that he'd had many choices, but it was probably true: he hadn't _had to_ come to Hogwarts. "But it's what you want." Why that would embarrass him was a mystery, but he flushed a deeper shade of pink. "Just as much as I do."

"Why do I even care?" Malfoy asked at length. "Why do you?"

Hogwarts had been the site of triumph and heartbreak. No matter where she went, she would always carry the memories with her, but at the school they seemed fresher, more vivid. There was the alcove where she'd had her first kiss. The dark, gloomy dungeons she'd explored under the thrall of Tom Riddle's diary. The Quidditch pitch where she'd learned the ropes of the game. The tower from which Dumbledore had fallen.

"So much happened here, good and bad." Ginny wrapped her arms around herself against a sudden shiver. "It's special. It's…home."

"I've forgotten all of that," Malfoy said with forced nonchalance. "Selective memory. Makes things easier."

"You would," she smiled.

He nodded tersely.

"So forget about the parents now," she suggested. "We have better things to do."

The smile he quirked looked strained, but at least he was trying. Ginny appreciated that, even when he said, "Oh yes we do," and wriggled his eyebrows meaningfully at her. She was glad when the return of McGonagall saved her from having to think of an appropriate response.

"Oh, you're still here. Good." The headmistress had stepped out of her office and spotted them. "Crisis averted, at least for the moment. The board of governors will hold off on applying for an Auror investigation until we've figured out some things ourselves. I suggest we get to the heart of the matter quickly."

"Like we wouldn't have done that without the governors breathing down our necks," Malfoy muttered. His smile had faded as quickly as it had come. He buried his fists in his pockets and didn't look at the headmistress.

"It's procedure, as you know. I remember when your father was on the board of governors, he took a keen interest in what went on at the school," McGonagall said tartly.

Malfoy did look up at that, his cheeks burning. "I suppose it makes you really happy they're on my case now."

"As a matter of fact, I don't like the governors getting involved any more than you do, Mr Malfoy." The headmistress faced him squarely. "Who has been defending your position ever since you were hired, do you think? Here at Hogwarts, we protect our own. I will fight to the last for your right to be here. Don't make me regret it!"

Malfoy looked momentarily shocked. "You need me. You know you do."

"Most of all, the students in Slytherin need you," McGonagall reminded him. "Especially now."

He grimaced like it pained him to commit to any sort of purpose, but he said, "I…wouldn't do anything to compromise my job."

"I hope so, Professor. Now, can you two work together to speed things along? Find out what Madam Pomfrey needs, if you can be of assistance."

"Actually, Headmistress, I was thinking it might be time to look elsewhere." Ginny took a deep breath, the magnitude of the accusation turning her stomach. "I think we should take a closer look at Honeydukes."

"Honeydukes? You think the, the poison," McGonagall's voice wavered on the word as if she still could not believe she was saying it, "It might have originated there?"

"It can't have been a prank product, the effects would've worn off by now. And I can't imagine any of the students smuggling anything stronger than that in here," Ginny reasoned. "It would fit with Professor Singh falling ill – the candy he ate came straight from Honeydukes, not from the Slytherin candy bowls at all." She glanced at Malfoy for confirmation, and he nodded. "I want to go and poke around the shop. Talk to the owner, see if there's anything suspicious," Ginny said.

"Very well," McGonagall said thoughtfully. "The two of you should go together, an extra pair of eyes can't hurt. But keep this quiet, we don't need rumours spreading in the village or up here."

Ginny couldn't agree more. "Meet you outside the gate in ten minutes? I have to go check on my students," she told Malfoy.

"You Gryffindors, always running off without thinking first." Malfoy shook his head at her. "It's seven in the morning. You know what that means."

She had lost any sense of time during her vigil. "Right. No one will be at the shop yet, we'd have to wake them up."

"Never mind that. It's breakfast time! I'm not doing anything before I've had my first cup of tea. You should know that."

It was good to know that even in the midst of chaos, some things didn't change. Ginny smiled. "I know a good cuppa makes you less insufferable, so I'm all for it."

"I didn't know tea was a cure-all." McGonagall harrumphed. "Don't tarry, please."

They wouldn't, but now that she thought about it, Ginny could really use a shower and a change of clothes. She left Malfoy to indulge his binge-drinking habit and went up to Gryffindor Tower to freshen up.

A group of her third-years was waiting by the portrait hole. They were the notorious troublemakers who'd yesterday set up Decoy Detonators for their Slytherin classmates, but now the boys looked sombre.

"What is it, Johnny?" Ginny asked the ringleader.

"Professor, what happened to Poole and Wentworth and the others?"

"We're not sure yet." She found herself unable to share their dark suspicions with the kids.

The quartet of boys exchanged worried looks. "When will they be back in class?"

"I don't know. It looks like they'll be in the hospital wing for a while."

"But we need them!" Johnny Jones puffed out his red cheeks.

"The Ravenclaws are always studying-" one of his friends put in.

"And the Hufflepuffs are useless," a third boy finished.

"Can we visit them?" Johnny's cheeks glowed a darker shade of red all of a sudden. "Just, uh, to check on them?"

Ginny bit back a smile. "If Madam Pomfrey allows it. But there can be no shenanigans, understood? They're..." She swallowed down the sick feeling that rose at the back of her throat with the words, "They're not well."

She should've paid more attention, Ginny thought as she watched the boys scurry off: her students were clearly setting an example of inter-house friendships. She'd always liked to think that as a teacher, she didn't show bias, but the night's events had turned some of her long-held misconceptions upside down and showed her that perhaps, she'd been treating the Slytherins unfairly.

Chagrined, she picked a dark green jumper to wear in a show of House solidarity and went to find Malfoy so they could get on with finding a cure for his students. He was waiting for her in the courtyard, wrapped in a long black cloak in spite of the beautiful early morning sunshine, and looked paler than ever as he stared out over the valley with unseeing eyes. He actually started when Ginny poked him between the shoulder blades.

"Ready?"

"Yes." He glanced back at her and quirked an eyebrow. "...Nice."

"The jumper? It seemed appropriate."

His eyes strayed to the edge of her neckline, which dipped down in a modest vee between her breasts, and then he smirked. "Slytherin House appreciates your..._efforts_."

He was such a pig, but that was preferable to a mood of doom and gloom. Malfoy's angst could make you believe the end of the world was near. She put her hands on her hips and glared at him until his smirk widened to a full, wicked grin. "_Slytherin House_ would do well to behave."

"And if not?"

"Malfoy, you know I can curse you before you even know what hit you," she said sweetly.

He actually laughed. "You say that, and yet you never do it anymore. Why's that?"

He was getting overconfident; it would've been annoying if it hadn't been such a good look on him. He seemed taller with it, happier. She smiled a little. If not for the student situation, it might have been a nice day: going for a morning walk, seeing how many jabs they could get in without hurting the other at all. When had she begun to cherish that routine? Ginny couldn't quite say, but she knew that she missed it now, missed it fervently.

"I like...your tea," she said in place of all the things she couldn't tell him. "Your tea is all right."

"All right? It's liquid gold that you drink from my pot every morning, you ingrate."

Ginny didn't know anything about tea, but she was sure that bragging about it added to Malfoy's enjoyment. Maybe they should take what they could get, she thought, even if it was just ten minutes of amicable hostility before they had to focus again on the real concerns. She reached out and looped her arm through Malfoy's. "You're such a connoisseur. Can we go?"

For a second, he looked startled. "If we must." The tone of indifference was one thing; the way his arm tightened under her hand another. He tucked in his elbow, bringing her closer to his side, and they set off towards the gates from where they could Apparate.

"My family has had stock in tea trading for centuries," he said after a few moments of charged silence. "My grandfathers actually had a falling-out because the Blacks claimed granddad Abraxas sold them fake Da Hong Pao tea leaves. A whole lot of wonky predictions came out of it, the League of Tasseographers sued Cepheus Black and Sons, then Abraxas bought shares in Slug and Jiggers Apothecary, and the Blacks had to declare bankruptcy soon after. It was a big scandal back in the day, my parents almost couldn't get married because my grandfathers hated each other so much."

"And to think, you wouldn't be here now just because of a bit of tea."

"I know. It would've been tragic, don't you think?"

With the sarcastic reply already at the tip of her tongue, Ginny paused and really allowed herself to think about it: a life without Malfoy. The boredom, the inertia, the way she'd have clung to her preconceived notions, never knowing people could change; never knowing it was okay for _her_ to change. He'd challenged her, surprised her, and Ginny hoped that sometimes, she surprised him too. "What would I do without you?"

He drew breath to retort something snide, the smug smirk already in place, but she wasn't quite joking, and when he glanced at her and found her biting her lip over what she'd let slip, he fell silent, and she knew that their moment's reprieve was past.

Malfoy's smirk faded; without it, his face seemed naked somehow, stripped bare to reveal the twitch of nervousness. "I don't know," he said, and his voice was neither sharp nor his lazy drawl. He sounded as earnest as Ginny had ever heard him. "But I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere, so the real question is, what are you going to do about that?"

"I don't know. I'm making it up as I go along."

He snorted softly. "I noticed."

"Isn't that good enough? Can't we just go on like always and see what happens?"

They were outside the gates, out of sight of the school. He stopped and let her arm slip out of his so he could grasp her hands and turn her to face him. "We could," he said, slowly pulling her closer until she had to tilt back her head to look up at him. His cloak enveloped her, heavy and warm, as he laid an arm around her. "Or I could just tell you: this is what happens."

He kissed her, but this time, it was different than before, gentler. Where their kisses had been a struggle for dominance, a play to get what each of them wanted out of the other, he was now giving something to her, cautious and eager to please. Ginny could feel the change in the deliberate way he held her, in the pleased curve of his lips against hers, and it terrified her like nothing ever had before.

Breathless, she drew back, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth. The taste of him lingered even when she said, "You're too sure of yourself, Malfoy."

A crease appeared between his brows. "Yeah, see, I play to win. I don't know how to do it any other way."

"Shouldn't you be used to losing by now?" Ginny asked sharply.

Brusquely, he let go of the hand he'd still been holding, drawing in on himself like a wounded animal, and regret washed over her immediately. She started forward, but he moved back, matching her step for step. "Dammit, Malfoy, I didn't mean-"

"Yes, you did," he snapped. "It's the truth, isn't it? You Gryffindors are always so self-righteous about that."

It was the truth, but not all of it. Not by a long shot. "I'm sorry."

But Malfoy shook his head. "Forget it. We have other things to do. Come on."

He Disapparated, leaving Ginny to stare unhappily at the spot where he'd just been. It wasn't the first time one of them was truly angry at the other, but somehow it felt worse than usual. She debated just going back to the castle and leaving him to figure things out on his own, but that would've meant stomping off like a spoiled child. He was right; they had things to do.

Huffing, she Disapparated to appear a split-second later in front of Honeydukes. Through the display window, she saw Malfoy with his back to her, talking to Rosalind.

"...not here," Rosalind said when Ginny entered the shop. It had been put back together after the cauldron explosion two days before, but many of the shelves hadn't been restocked yet. Without the colourful merchandise, Honeydukes looked empty and a little sad. "Mr Flume went to talk to the Auror office regarding the accident, sir, I don't know if I can reach him-"

"It's urgent," Malfoy snapped in a tone of supreme irritation. "Floo him!"

"Please," Ginny added, coming up to the counter to elbow Malfoy in the ribs. "It wouldn't hurt you to be a little nicer," she hissed as an anxious Rosalind disappeared through a bead curtain that separated the shop from the backroom.

"Says you. Oh, right." Malfoy laughed derisively. "You're an authority on 'nice'."

"Look, can we get this here done first? If we have to, we can fight all you like later."

"I don't need your permission to insult you," he told her scathingly. "Get back into your biscuit tin and leave me alone, Ginger."

Ginny could appreciate the situational appropriateness of Malfoy's insults. "I thought you'd run out of redhead jokes years ago."

"I'm never going to run out of redhead jokes." He glanced at her to find her smiling and quickly looked away again. "Strawberry shortcake!"

"Is that the best you can do, Malfoy?"

"Well, ginger minger is reserved for your brother. He doesn't remind me of things I enjoy with a cup of tea."

Ginny drew breath to remind him that He Of The Receding Hairline should be careful making jokes about anyone else's hair, then realised that, in his inimitable style, Malfoy had just told her he liked her. It made her feel even shittier about the way she carried on with him, wanting him close even as she pushed him away, unable to reconcile the conflicting things she felt. He hadn't lied: at least he fought to win. Ginny didn't know what she fought for, at this point.

She was grateful when the bead curtain parted and Rosalind returned, closely followed by Ambrosius Flume, the owner of Honeydukes. He was a skinny man with a long, humourless face, whose protruding chin and forehead gave him the appearance of an ill-tempered banana. He wore dark robes and generally didn't fit in to his rainbow-coloured candy wonderland.

"...good for nothing," he was muttering at Rosalind. "I _told_ you I was busy, and not to disturb me."

The girl gulped, and Ginny cleared her throat, turning the man's attention to her and Malfoy. "Mr Flume? We've come about a serious matter up at the school-"

Rosalind took the opportunity to escape out the back door for a break. Mr Flume came swaggering up to the counter. "Ah, the headmistress deigns to respond to my complaint? I Owled her months ago about the shoplifting problem." He eyed Malfoy scornfully. "I don't know _what_ goes on at the school these days-"

"Don't you?" Malfoy leaned over the counter towards the man as if he was a blood hound set on sniffing out a trail.

Flume's eyes narrowed. "Well, I can imagine, what with your ilk teaching children-"

Ginny grabbed Malfoy's hand, which had twitched towards his wand. "Perhaps you could answer a few questions. We've had students acting very strangely after eating sweets from your shop."

Mr Flume fixed his sunken dark eyes on her. "Acting strangely? Whatever are you implying, young lady?"

Glancing at Malfoy's tense profile, she decided to get to the point quickly. "Our Potions master said your chocolate contained an intoxicating substance."

Flume's eyes widened momentarily before he let out a bark of a laugh. "Well, our chocolate Firewhiskey barrels _are_ among the most popular items we carry-"

Malfoy was staring openly at the man now, a hungry expression on his face like he could physically snatch any careless word from Flume's lips. With Malfoy's watchful eyes on them, Ginny said, "No, something other than liquor. Something that would cause an altered state of consciousness."

Mr Flume puffed out his chest. "Dear me! Do you know what such claims can do to a business?"

"Yes," Malfoy said, smiling in that terribly unpleasant way that Ginny had almost forgotten. "So the sooner you tell us what the hell you put in your sweets, the less of a stir there will be."

Flume huffed and puffed indignantly. "There is nothing in there at all. Only the very best ingredients. Certainly nothing that would cause students to act out."

"So when we call the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and they examine the chocolate we have up at the school, they'll find nothing but sugar and cream?" Ginny asked.

Mr Flume clamped his mouth shut and glared at them as they all envisioned the Department of Magical Law Enforcement coming to ensnare them like a many-armed, bureaucratic octopus. No one would get anything done for _weeks_, and the fuss could only hurt Flume's business more.

"You know, I think we should call in the authorities for help," Malfoy said to Ginny. "Mr Flume's obviously busy cleaning up after the cauldron explosion. Didn't even manage to report it to the Auror office until two days later. Do you have insurance, by the way, sir?"

Flume's face was slowly becoming purple with rage. "Get out of my shop!"

"What do you put into your sweets?" Ginny persisted.

"I use sugar and cream," Flume snapped. "Other than that, my recipes are secret, I can't be expected to share them."

"That's very convenient, isn't it," Malfoy said. "Perhaps you'll be a little more forthcoming with Potter."

For Malfoy to draw _that _card, he had to be pretty desperate. Ginny gave him a sidelong glance as he and Flume engaged in a silent battle of glares.

"Potter?" Flume asked at length. "_Harry_ Potter?"

"We go way back," Malfoy said, and that wasn't even lying. "The Aurors' finest is only a Floo call away."

Flume glanced at Ginny, who nodded. "I'm sure he'd come right away if we tell him it's urgent-"

"What _is_ going on up at the school that'd require the help of Harry Potter?" Flume scowled when no answer came, but didn't push his luck. "Fine. I use a pinch of this herb and that - I have to get customers to come back for more, don't I? But you'll find nothing you couldn't buy at any apothecary's."

Ginny was momentarily speechless. "You mean to say you've been putting powerful potion ingredients into your sweets?"

Flume was still glaring daggers at Malfoy. "What businessman doesn't avail himself of little tricks?"

Ginny didn't even know where to begin. Malfoy, of course, bypassed all moral concerns and got straight to the point. "We need your recipes so we can find an antidote."

"As I said, nothing I sell would have a discernible effect," the man huffed. "You certainly wouldn't need an antidote. Nothing's ever happened before, and I've used the same ingredients for decades."

Nothing had happened, except that everyone at Hogwarts was apparently a drug addict. In retrospect, that actually explained a lot. "Something's got to have changed," Ginny insisted. "Otherwise we wouldn't be having an epidemic!"

"An epidemic?" Flume greedily seized on that bit of information. "Isn't that interesting! Why haven't I read about it in the Daily Prophet, isn't the school supposed to notify the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes when there's an incident-"

"So nice of you to worry, but we're handling it," Ginny said.

"I'm sure you are," Flume snapped. "So go and sort out your own mess, I have enough to do, my shop got destroyed, three tons of merchandise ruined, and that with the competition right across the street now! I don't need this!"

"Yeah, well, neither do we," Ginny said, but then Malfoy elbowed her and she shifted her glares to him.

"C'mon," he said, jerking his head towards the door. "I've heard enough."

"We'll be back," Ginny told Flume, and let Malfoy drag her out the door by her sleeve.

"That was ominous," he said when they were walking down the high street. He rolled his eyes at her. "You're extremely intimidating."

"Excuse me for not being an expert on threatening people," Ginny retorted. "You were a great help, of course. Do you even care that he's been drugging us all for years?"

"Of course I care! But he's not going to tell us anything more than he already has, now that he knows something serious is going on up at the school. Great job, Weasley! He didn't need to know we're in over our heads."

"We're not..." Ginny trailed off, flapping her hands helplessly. "Okay. So what now?

"Someone needs to finish Professor Singh's job, obviously," Malfoy said. "Find out what Flume's been using, exactly."

Ginny nodded. "How good are you at Potions?"

"I can follow instructions all right, but I'm not good enough to make things up as I go along. You?"

"Me neither," she admitted, chagrined. "Maybe it would be best if we had the Auror office send someone in-"

"Then we might as well let the governors take over the school right now," Malfoy moaned. "We should just..." He stopped in the middle of the street, holding up a finger like he was pointing out something obvious.

"What?"

"I need to go see the headmistress." Without any sort of explanation, he Disapparated, leaving Ginny to follow once again. It seemed she was always running after him, these days; when had that happened?

Annoyed, Ginny set off down the High Street, deciding to take the long way up to the castle on foot so she could have half an hour's peace and quiet. A bit of fresh air couldn't hurt, either; she needed to clear her head.

She looked up and down the street, finding a few people already running their morning errands. After her encounter with Ambrosius Flume, Ginny was tempted to go up to his potential customers and tell every single one of them to take their business elsewhere. One upside to a possible investigation up at the school was that Ginny could make sure that blame landed where it should.

Across from Honeydukes, the bright pink awning of the new sweet shop caught her eye. Perfect petit fours and macarons sat nestled in a bed of green sugar-spun grass under a cloud of an enormous meringue, which hovered in the air above the confections. Ginny's stomach rumbled. Desperate times, she thought, required desperate measures, and contrary to her mother's teachings, cake for breakfast had never given Ginny stomach aches but always did wonders for her mood. She glanced back at Honeydukes and saw Mr Flume standing by the door, glaring at her through the glass. Defiantly, Ginny pushed open the door to the Magical Bonbonnière and almost ran into a spindly man who'd jumped out from behind a shelf.

"Good morning, good morning!" The man clapped his hands, performing a sort of dance around her as he gestured for her to "come in, come in," and Ginny was reminded of a slightly manic monkey. His golden name tag identified him as Mr Dolce, the owner; he seemed a much better fit for a sweet shop than the unfriendly Mr Flume.

She smiled. "You just opened recently, didn't you? The shop looks really nice." The storefront had appeared sadly abandoned after the old apothecary who'd sold his potions and tonics there had passed away. Now it gleamed with gold filigree accents over a pastel interior that was a perfect backdrop to the sweet delicacies on offer.

The man nodded vigorously, showing off all his teeth in a wide smile. "What would you like? Pumpkin pasties? Treacle tart? Apple crumble and custard? Or our homemade chocolates? I have everything – everything!"

Ginny could see that he did, in fact, offer every sort of sweet or dessert she could possibly imagine. "I need to get back to the school, but..." She began to select an assortment from the foot-high stacks of different chocolates, then had Mr Dolce box up a few of the delicate little cakes too.

He handed her a miniature éclair to sample, which Ginny took with a slight pang of guilt: she really had no business wasting time shopping, but she'd needed the break from Malfoy and all the drama.

"You work up at the castle? As a teacher?" he asked, his glance sliding over her dark Hogwarts robes.

"Yes; I really need to get going." She shrunk her shopping bag, taking care not to squish the delicate contents.

"Busy time at the school?"

"Oh, yes, it's the end of term and all," Ginny said vaguely, and hurried out before more small talk might be required.

The man accompanied her to the door amidst many compliments. "Pleasure doing business... Do come back... Come back soon!"

Outside, Ginny saw that the sun stood pretty high above the mountains already and decided to Apparate back after all so as not to lose more time. Still, the small detour had cheered her up a little. She arrived at the castle with new purpose and went straight to the library to read up on herbs and potions, unwrapping chocolates under the table when Madam Pince's back was turned.

Ginny smiled, thinking of Hermione as she took some notes on the most addictive sorts of plants. Ginny wasn't usually one for quiet study, but she felt marginally more prepared to deal with whatever was happening when she went up to the hospital wing to check up on the students and Professor Singh.

"Nothing has changed," Madam Pomfrey told her on a deep sigh. "The effects of a drug should wear off eventually, I don't understand it."

Perhaps the effects of long-term poisoning were a little harder to shake, but Ginny didn't want to tell the matron that. Madam Pomfrey looked tired and anxious, and before she had to worry more, Ginny wanted to find out if Malfoy had talked to the headmistress about Flume yet.

"Have my boys been good?" she asked Madam Pomfrey, jerking her chin at the group of third-years who were sitting at the foot of the bed where Poole, the Slytherin, slept. They were playing a game of Exploding Snap and apparently keeping up a running commentary for their sleeping classmates.

"And Jones wins again!" Johnny announced jubilantly just then, throwing his cards in the air. His friends shouted abuse at him as they began to collect the cards for the next round.

"I wish they were a little quieter," Madam Pomfrey huffed, "but perhaps their voices will rouse their classmates. I'm running out of ideas."

Hogwarts was supposed to be safe now; the teachers were supposed to make it so. With the taste of chocolate still in her mouth, Ginny suddenly felt sick. Muttering something about finding the headmistress, she fled the infirmary. Out in the hall, she gulped in a few harsh breaths, trying to get her churning stomach to settle.

She hated feeling so helpless, like there was nothing they could do. There had to be _something_, but she didn't know what, and that was almost worse. She had to take action or she was going to start climbing the walls soon.

She wondered what Malfoy was doing, where he'd gone off to. If he'd had an idea, would it have been too much to ask he share it with her?

Directing her frustration at him was satisfying in a familiar way: it gave her the impetus to get up, move. She'd find him and yell at him for a bit until the pressure that was building inside had lessened and she could think straight again, and maybe then they could come up with a plan together.

Malfoy wasn't in the Slytherin common room, and he wasn't in his office, where his silver tea pot sat lonely next to a half-empty cup. Ginny didn't waste much time there; she went on looking for him, but she didn't want to ask any of the students, who looked to her with questions of their own, and none of the other teachers knew anything about Malfoy's whereabouts. Her colleagues' knowing looks before she even mentioned Malfoy's name added to Ginny's annoyance. Huffing, she climbed the stairs to the headmistress's office and found McGonagall engaged in a heated conversation with three couples whom Ginny recognised as the parents of some of the students in the hospital wing, and Andromeda Tonks. Worry must have compelled them to come immediately after the headmistress had notified them about their children's condition; Ginny was actually surprised there weren't more of them.

McGonagall glanced at Ginny and immediately waved her onwards. "Not now, Professor Weasley. You are wanted in the Potions laboratory, I believe."

Ginny looked at the parents and saw the same worry she felt reflected tenfold. Nodding at Mrs Tonks, she hurried on to the dungeons without questioning the headmistress's orders until she arrived at the door to Professor Singh's laboratory.

McGonagall, too, had apparently been able to guess from a look just where Ginny wanted to be, and with whom.

Sighing softly, she watched Malfoy putter around in the Potions classroom. He wore dragon hide gloves, protective goggles and Professor Singh's lab coat, which was far too short and big for him, and looked like a bit of a madman as he rushed back and forth between five bubbling cauldrons, muttering incantations.

In spite of herself, Ginny had to grin, and felt annoyed at him and at herself for it. She'd come down here with every intention of berating Malfoy for abandoning her in Hogsmeade High Street, and being presumptuous enough to liken her to his favourite kind of tart before that, and kissing her before _that_, and generally being a pain all the time, but when he bent over the same smoking cauldron behind which they'd found a lifeless Professor Singh last night, her heart leapt into her throat and all she thought was, _Not him. Not him_.

She rushed forward, seized Malfoy by the collar of the stained lab coat to drag him backwards, and cried, "Careful! Have you gone mad? Madder?"

He started at her touch, but then shook her off and said in as bored a voice as he could possibly manage, "Oh, it's just you."

Ginny harrumphed. "What are you doing?"

He rolled his eyes as if she was being very stupid. "I was distilling the _soft, chewy centre_. As per Professor Singh's notes. I didn't get too close to any of it, I don't even like chocolate."

Turned out that Malfoy's apparent sugar high was just natural insanity.

"Everyone likes chocolate," Ginny said.

"I'm not 'everyone'," Malfoy retorted.

"Oh, I know you're special." It slipped out on a rush of irritation, just like that without her ever meaning to actually put the thought into words, but there they hung in the air between them, and Ginny glanced up to watch Malfoy's face pass through several stages of surprise before finally setting in frown lines.

"What do you want?" he asked, busily turning back to his cauldron.

Ginny supposed it was a fair question - they never admitted out loud that they spent time together just for the fun of it - but that didn't mean she wanted to explain herself. She'd never had to, and in turn, she'd never made Malfoy feel embarrassed for eternally doing the exact opposite of what he professed to. It had been a great arrangement, in her opinion, but apparently, the only one she was still fooling was herself. Annoyed, she said, "I was wondering where you'd gone off to."

"Were you." Malfoy, of course, was determined to be difficult, which made Ginny feel worse for running after him like a schoolgirl. Weren't they supposed to be professionals, colleagues?

She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him the stern schoolmarm's look he disliked so much. "You didn't care to share your idea. Did you talk to the headmistress?"

"Yes."

He never used one word when he could use twenty. Ginny had to restrain herself from kicking him in the shin. "And...? What's going on?"

"We got started on the leftover sweets from the common room." He gestured around at the bubbling cauldrons. The air smelled wonderfully of chocolate. It seemed so strange that this should have poisoned Professor Singh.

"We...?"

"My mother's come to help me with the potions."

"I think it'd be more appropriate to say you're helping me, darling." Narcissa Malfoy came in, levitating a tray full of empty flasks before her. She was wearing a lot of jewellery for someone who was ostensibly working, but her dress was simple and she actually wore a pristine white apron over it.

"Did you clear this with the headmistress?" Ginny asked Malfoy, surprised.

"Of course. I wouldn't have come without an official invitation. I got up from the Sunday brunch table for this, you know." Mrs Malfoy set down her flasks on the teacher's desk at the front of the classroom, then turned to study the pair before her with curious eyes.

"Mother, do you remember Ginny Weasley?" Malfoy said in a bored voice.

"Yes; how do you do, Miss Weasley."

Like her son, Narcissa Malfoy never seemed to mean what she said: she sounded perfectly pleasant while looking at Ginny like a snake would stare down a particularly delicious bunny. Malfoy was the exact opposite, of course, but Ginny could definitely see where he'd gotten his flair for conversation.

"How do you do?" Ginny parroted in the sweetest tones she could possibly affect.

Malfoy coughed over his cauldron, which turned his mother's attention instantly to him. "You're being careful, I hope?"

"Yes, Mother." He waited until she turned back to her flasks before he rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. "But I could use a break."

That reminded Ginny she'd come armed. Carefully, unsure if she even still wanted to make amends, she took Malfoy's tea pot from her pocket and unshrunk it to set down on the desk closest to him. "I stopped by your office and brought this. But the tea's probably gone cold by now," she said defiantly.

Surprised, he looked at the tea pot, at Ginny, and such was the power of tea that his lips twitched in a smile despite his obvious, valiant effort to keep scowling at her. "That's all right," he said, "I'll use a heating spell."

His rare smiles had a way of cutting to the core of her in a way that his scowls had long ceased to. It was so easy to hurt him when he fought back, but Ginny never had figured out how to protect herself from his good humour. It made her heart beat faster as she said, "I thought that spoiled the aroma?"

He shrugged. "Desperate times and all that. I hope you didn't add milk or sugar."

"I've known you for a while, haven't I."

His mother was watching them with a quizzical expression on her face. "Well. What would one have to do, exactly, to get a cup of tea around here?"

"Call for a house elf," Ginny said dryly. Malfoy's face twisted comically, like it was taking all his considerable willpower not to laugh, and she had to grin.

"I fail to see what's so funny," a voice said from the door.

They all turned to see Andromeda Tonks entering the classroom, her gaze flickering back and forth between Ginny and Malfoy before finally settling heavily on Narcissa. "Ginny, I thought I'd see if you needed help with the potions, I couldn't bear to sit at home waiting for news. What is _she_ doing here?"

Malfoy went to stand behind his mother, who had taken out a dagger and begun to chop up a chocolate bar, unperturbed by her sister's glares. "I needed someone who knows potions and whom I could trust, someone Slytherin. Calling my mother was the quickest way to get someone in here without causing a stir." Malfoy didn't seem surprised to see Mrs Tonks, but that didn't mean he was happy she was there. Ginny knew their relationship was strained at best and existed only for the sake of Teddy, over whose education they frequently disagreed. "You do want us to solve this puzzle quickly, don't you."

Mrs Tonks sized him up with a long, hard look. "Teddy likes you, Malfoy, and I'm glad he does because I want him to feel at home in Slytherin, but that doesn't mean I trust you. Or her."

Mrs Malfoy looked up at that. "I came at the headmistress's request."

"You're a healer now?" Her sister's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"No. But I'm rather adept at Potions, if you remember. Those children were poisoned."

"Poisoned?" Mrs Tonks's hard expression slipped. Suddenly, she looked old and tired, deep shadows casting the classical angles of her face into sharp relief. "Someone did this on purpose?"

"It appears that Mr...Flume - is it? - down at Honeydukes has been experimenting with his ingredients. We believe that's how the children and the Potions master got drugged. I've already found traces of _Papaver Somniferum_ at the very least." Mrs Malfoy set down the dagger and looked her sister squarely in the eye. "I'm here to help."

"Forgive me, but I have a hard time trusting in any of your _help_ after my other sister murdered my daughter."

Narcissa's blue eyes clouded over like the sky before heavy rain. "I know," she said, less forcefully. "Bella was consumed by her madness."

"Don't you make excuses for her!" Mrs Tonks said, furious.

But her sister shook her head. "I won't. She hurt Draco too, in the name of…that madman."

"And yet here he stands, untouched by anything and everything, just like his blasted father," Andromeda snapped.

"You can say to me whatever you like, but you will not abuse Lucius and Draco," Narcissa retorted.

"Oh, but it would be well deserved."

Narcissa didn't deny it. An awkward silence descended over the room as the two witches stared at each other over the cauldrons and the distance of several decades. Finally, Mrs Malfoy said, "Draco tells me so much about your grandson. I saw him just yesterday, he's growing up so fast. He's beautiful, Andra."

"Yes, you'd say that. He looks like a Black. But he isn't. He's my halfblood daughter's son. My Muggleborn husband's grandson."

"He's yours," Narcissa said with a graceful shrug. "I would know him anywhere, even with his blue hair. Let me help him."

Andromeda glanced at Malfoy's pale, determined face, and the fight seemed to go out of her. "I wouldn't wish my grief on you, Narcissa. Never."

Narcissa Malfoy nodded sombrely. "Well. Whatever happened to little Theodore, we can put right yet. I'll be able to work a lot faster if you assist me."

"Assist you?" Her sister said dryly. "Who was it that used to do your Potions homework for you while you were busy snogging Lucius?"

Malfoy choked on his own spit and coughed out a laugh. His mother remained unfazed. "Either way."

After a moment, Mrs Tonks nodded. "Malfoy," she said in the voice of one who expected to be obeyed, "You can go. We'll be quite all right. Too many cooks spoil the broth, or the potion, as it were."

Malfoy dithered for a minute, slowly taking off his protective gear. He glanced at Narcissa, who nodded. "I'll be in my office if you need me, Mother. Help yourself to the tea."


	6. Chapter 6

They climbed the stairs slowly, taking their time after the mad dash of the previous night and morning. Ginny's bad shoulder ached; she was beginning to feel how tired she was.

"You know it can't have been only Flume's secret ingredients that did all the damage," she told Malfoy. "If it were, everyone would be ill. It's not just your kids who ate sweets from Honeydukes."

"Maybe he added something especially to my order," Malfoy said grimly. "You saw how he looked at me today, it's not a stretch to imagine he might hate Slytherins."

Malfoy might be paranoid, but Ginny didn't think he was wrong. In any case, examining the sweets from Honeydukes was a starting point, but for the moment, they could use a break. "Let's take half an hour, I don't think the headmistress needs us just now."

"And what are we going to do with all that spare time?"

"Have you eaten?" she asked.

"Why, are you offering me a bite?"

It took her a moment to realise that Malfoy had apparently decided to revert back to the tried-and-true ways of unnerving her, and was smirking in that wicked way of his that made her want to punch him first and kiss him after.

She wasn't quite sure whether to feel relieved or newly annoyed, and finally settled on ignoring him. She was so tired of double meanings. "I have miniature cakes?" The éclairs had been delicious, so Ginny felt that her peace offering was generous.

Malfoy, of course, wouldn't be ignored. His smirk widened to a smile that, if he'd been less tired, might have become a proper leer for Ginny to hex off his face. "No need to be so modest."

"You're funny, Malfoy," she said dryly.

"I try." She could tell that he did, but then his humour vanished as quickly as it had come. "This morning you said we didn't have time for_ anything_, but then you made a stop for miniature cakes? Weasley, your priorities offend me."

In retrospect, it really didn't seem like the best idea. "I didn't stay out long. I needed a break from all the drama."

"You're the one who started arguing!"

Ginny sighed. "...I know. I did say I was sorry!"

He shrugged edgily. "You _are_ going to be sorry when Mrs Tonks kills me for not protecting Ted." Malfoy grimaced. "It's not fair I get all the scary aunts."

"You haven't met my auntie Muriel and her moustache," Ginny said.

"Please. I'd win the contest for terrifying extended family any day." He gave her a look that was equal parts amusement and exasperation. "I've been cursed with all strong-willed females in my life."

"I'm sorry I'm no Pansy Parkinson," Ginny said sarcastically.

"I'm not," Malfoy said, and then, because that must've been too much of a concession, "I must be a glutton for punishment."

"Or maybe you've gone crazy." The thought wasn't far-fetched.

"If I've gone crazy, so have you," he retorted.

"Probably," she snorted.

Malfoy seized her hand, bringing them to a stop in the middle of the hall. "I don't feel crazy," he said, and when Ginny looked at him quizzically, "I've thought about it, what with my mother's family all mad as hatters-"

"If you were crazy, wouldn't that feel entirely normal to you?" she said snidely.

He frowned. "Would it?"

Ginny bit her lip. In the context of Bellatrix Lestrange's brand of madness, those jokes didn't seem very funny at all. "Is this really what keeps you up at night?"

"Well, I _have_ thought about it."

"You're not crazy." She squeezed his hand, and suddenly had to smile. "Not in any bad way."

He tilted his head, and his fair hair fell into his face, hiding his eyes. All she saw was his smirking mouth when he asked, "Weasley, are you saying you _like me_?"

Ginny had already admitted as much long ago, if not in so many words, but her instinct, with his hand wrapped warm and strong around hers, still was to lash out like she had that morning. Without the armour of her sass, she felt vulnerable, unsure of him and of herself outside of their comfortable dynamic of amicable hostility. She wanted to blame Malfoy for throwing her off balance, but oddly enough, she didn't even think that had been his intent when he kissed her so gently. She'd worked herself up to righteous anger all by herself.

On impulse, she reached out and brushed his hair back, wanting to see his eyes, but he looked instead at a spot somewhere over her head, and she realised he didn't trust her not to look him in the eye and smile as she lied.

Because that's all it would be, any quip or sarcastic remark she could make: a lie. Ginny knew she had a sharp tongue, and she used it like a weapon, but she liked to think she wasn't deceitful. Perhaps she'd been lying to herself too, all this time.

A little truth was overdue.

She laid a hand on his cheek and turned his head towards her. There was a line between his brows, which deepened as she tugged at his hand. Carefully, never breaking the intent gaze they were locked in, Ginny shifted closer. Malfoy inhaled sharply, but then her lips were on his and the breath caught in his throat. His response was immediate, and she felt a secret thrill for how much he wanted this, no matter how he might feel about her just then. He caught her up against him as she wobbled on her tiptoes, unbalanced by the sudden surge of desire that she'd resisted for so long, and met her kiss with a passion of his own.

Ginny realised now that she never should've tried to stop this from happening. It flowed so naturally between them, resisting it could only delay the inevitable; it was stupid. And hadn't she told him that she was tired of feeling stupid? What was the point, what had ever been the point to anything she'd done when everything was so wildly out of control anyway?

Moaning, she grabbed Malfoy's tie and dragged him closer, into the heat of their kiss. Just this once, just for now, she could make up her mind about what she wanted and just take it. He wanted her to; she was pretty sure of that. For how distant and cold he could be, there was nothing measured about Malfoy's touch now. It burned a fiery path over her skin as he stroked his fingers over her cheek and tipped her chin up to nip at her bottom lip.

"I should leave you hanging like you always do me," he whispered, but the words were at odds with the way he grabbed possessively at her hips, drawing her in to his body.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and put her mouth close to his ear. "If you want to, now's the time."

"No. I think I want to find out what you're going to do."

What _was_ she going to do? Ginny had an idea, but it wasn't one to be explained in words. She pushed back at him, feeling the hard planes of his body press into hers, and shivered with anticipation.

They stumbled down the corridor, too caught up in the moment to let go of each other. They were probably lucky that no one saw them, but in all honesty, Ginny didn't care very much just then. Malfoy's office was close: kissing wildly, they tumbled over the threshold and he slammed the door shut.

The snap of the bolt sliding into place made something click in Ginny's mind. Breathing hard, she drew back to look up at Malfoy and found that same warm gaze from the night before caressing her almost like a physical touch.

There was no going back from this. No matter what else happened now, things were already irrevocably changed between them. She couldn't hate him when she'd tasted his kisses, felt what it was like to be caught in his embrace. It would've been so convenient if she could've just used him, abused him, but she couldn't anymore and she didn't want to.

For the first time in years, she saw a new path opening up before her, the road less travelled that would lead to an unknown future. It was terribly exciting; she hadn't known how much she'd longed for this. The fantasies had been locked away in the farthest corner of her mind for so long that she'd almost convinced herself they weren't there, and she didn't, couldn't care about him. But reality was so much better, so much more vivid and colourful than even her wildest dreams; she didn't know how she'd ever quit him now.

She tilted her head until their lips almost touched. "Promise me," she whispered, "Promise things won't get complicated."

He didn't reply right away, just looked at her in that intent way like he was trying to puzzle out a magnificent secret. The silence between them was charged with anticipation. "It isn't. It won't be," Malfoy said, and kissed her again.

Fleetingly, Ginny wondered when she'd begun to trust Malfoy enough to extract promises from him and expect them to be kept. Around the same time she'd begun to trust him enough to let him touch her, she supposed, feeling his hands stroke up along her sides and under her jumper. Around the time she'd trusted that it was okay to show how much she wanted to touch him.

She pushed his dark robes off his shoulders, and he let go of her just long enough to shrug them off. Ginny was so used to his formal way of dress that it seemed strangely intimate just to see him in his shirtsleeves, touch the crisp linen and feel the warmth of his skin underneath. She fumbled with his cufflinks, trying to figure out how to take them off while his lips were on her neck and his hands crept under her jumper again.

"Malfoy-"

"What?"

"Don't stop."

He laughed quietly. "Can I get that in writing?"

"You can get cursed if you don't shut up," she growled.

Grinning, he moved them further into the room somehow without breaking full-body contact. Ginny felt around for her wand, but Malfoy's hands were in the way, long fingers dipping beneath her waistband. She fumbled around for the long pocket in her skirt and drew her wand to point vaguely in the direction of the sofa while she yanked Malfoy's shirttails from his trousers. The sofa transformed to become longer, wider, and they tumbled on to the seat together with Ginny ending up sprawled on top of him.

It was warm so close to the hearth, cosily snuggled into the depths of the sofa, and the air smelled faintly of damp tea leaves. Malfoy's chest rose and fell rapidly under her hands. Ginny leaned over and kissed him, rubbing herself against him until he began to squirm under her. She pulled his tie free of the complicated knot he favoured, then plucked at the buttons of his shirt, wanting closer, wanting to get her hands on him _now_.

She felt the heat from the fireplace on her back as Malfoy dragged her jumper up and over her head. The camisole she had on underneath was worn thin and didn't hide a single freckle or anything else. He made a low noise of pleasure at the back of his throat, and Ginny couldn't suppress a smile.

In secret moments, late at night, she'd wondered how he'd be in moments like this. Perhaps she'd expected him to be demanding and particular about what he wanted, but if he was, it showed as a boldness that was more appealing than she could've imagined. Malfoy, bless his wicked heart, was shameless, and she should've known how good it would feel to glory in his lustful stare, in the sure way he reached out and touched every inch of skin that he fancied.

As it turned out, he fancied all of her.

He sat up, Ginny in his lap, and dipped his head to nip at her collarbone, nose aside one strap of her camisole. On a heaving breath, she shrugged it off her shoulder, and her breasts spilled over the thin fabric cups. Ginny wrapped her arms around his head as he swirled his tongue around a nipple, silently telling him to keep doing _just that, right there_, and felt a laugh reverberate through him.

"Like that, do you?"

One thing she _would_ have expected was grandstanding. She laughed quietly as she kissed the smug smirk off his lips. Perhaps this once, it would be smart to encourage him: Malfoy thrived on praise, and Ginny was inclined to give it to him as long as he made her feel so good. She hooked one finger under the other strap and slowly slid it down her shoulder. The camisole bunched around her waist. Malfoy's jaw went sort of slack, and she shifted closer, to get his lips where she wanted them. "Go on," she whispered, "Please."

For once, he didn't twist her words, didn't turn her need into a weapon to torment her with. This desire was a weakness they shared, and they reveled in it as he dipped his head back down to lick a fiery path over her skin, trying to get closer, closer.

"So good," she whispered, "Yes, like that, Malfoy, god, I've wanted this for so long-"

She felt his smirk, could see it like a portrait hung inside her mind even as her eyes fluttered shut. "Tell me about it."

"Shut up." She rolled her hips, gratified when he let out a strangled groan. "Shut up and kiss me."

He did her one better. Suddenly, his hands were everywhere, stroking, teasing, and shivers raced over her skin until every nerve felt raw with it. She quivered in his arms, near sobbing with the incredible relief of being able to feel this way again after so many years of numbness. Everything inside her answered to him; magic prickled hot just underneath her skin, needing only his touch to erupt.

When he stroked a finger along the thin white scars on her arm, where her fractured shoulder bones had pierced the skin, the energy actually discharged. There was a spark, and Malfoy jerked back, startled and laughing.

Sex and magic were a potent combination, or that's how it was described in the smutty novels Ginny had snagged from her mother's secret collection once. She hadn't actually experienced anything like this before. Malfoy licked his lips, and then she felt his tongue sneaking out to follow the line of her scar up to the crook of her neck. She shivered on an aftershock. The scars had become a part of her; most days, she didn't even remember they were there. Permanent cosmetic charms to hide them had seemed like an unnecessary expense at the time, but now, with his bright, curious eyes on her, she regretted that she hadn't gotten them done.

"Don't."

He kissed at her shoulder. "Why?"

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut against the new, electric surge of desire. She thought she could hear the air crackling around them, or maybe that was the blood rushing in her ears. "I want to pretend they're not even there."

"You're not the only one with scars."

"That's different." She swallowed hard against the sudden lump in her throat. "You're not a cripple."

Everyone else would've found kind, gentle words that would mean nothing anymore for how they'd been repeated, over and over, until they sounded strange and incomprehensible to her. But not Malfoy: he raised his head and laughed in her face. "And you keep telling me to stop feeling so goddamn sorry for myself." He smirked at her, and Ginny didn't feel like her chest would cave in, hollow and brittle, under the weight of grief; suddenly, the void was filled to bursting.

She glared at him fiercely. "You don't know how I feel, you bastard."

"You know, I think I do." Her anger only fuelled his amusement. "And you're the sexiest cripple I've ever seen."

It was at once the nicest and the most offensive thing anyone had ever said to her. Ginny gulped in a breath, but he cupped her quivering chin in one hand and kissed the words of indignation from her lips. "Come on," he whispered, and there it was again, the underlying challenge that had been the reason for her being for long, lonely years, "Show me what you can still do with those hands."

She might set out to wipe that smug smirk off his face, but she couldn't succeed, not when she was playing into his desires with a ferocious passion that proved right every single crack he'd ever made about her redhead's temper. Ginny couldn't say that she cared; it felt too good to give in, give herself over, lose her reason and restraint in the mindless clash of lips on lips, and burn with the heat of her skin sliding over his.

She stroked her hands down his body deliberately, feeling out sharp bony angles and lean muscle. Malfoy wasn't classically handsome by any stretch, and he hadn't lied: the scars that crisscrossed his chest matched hers, thin white lines to remind them of pain even amidst the pleasure. There was something pleasing about the imperfection of it all, of how they were together. Ginny found she could appreciate it for what it was, not for how it should be.

When she touched her fingertips to the dark smudge on the inside of his arm, he shivered. Ginny examined it curiously. There was nothing arousing about the Mark, but the intimacy of being allowed to touch it, of wanting to, struck something deep inside of her, a secret place, perhaps, where she'd still harboured true resentment. All these years that they'd fought, and they'd finally made peace. She wanted to write her note of surrender all over his skin with her fingers and lips, and receive his in turn.

Malfoy was looking up at her with eyes alight with feverish desire, and for once, she didn't think about how she could take that from him, didn't stop to dwell on what had been and what was meant to be. They both wanted the same thing now; maybe they always had.

Ginny shoved his trousers down his hips while he peeled off her knickers under her skirt. Impatience made for efficiency: suddenly, all they needed between them was a look, a breathless nod. She pushed down hard, taking him inside her, and Malfoy let out a low groan that might have been her name.

Pleasure rose and crashed like waves against the crumbling walls of her restraint. Ginny rolled her hips, feeling it wash over her, carry her along on a current that threatened to pull her under. She rolled with it, falling forward into him, her arms slung around his shoulders and her face hidden in his neck. Malfoy groaned again, pushing back at her, and she smiled as a flutter started at the pit of her stomach.

"And just when I thought I'd finally shut you up..." she whispered, close to his ear.

"Never," he gasped, and she took it as a promise.

If there was something he hid well, it was how eager he was to please. He had his ways about him, sure, but even in his single-minded pursuit of what he wanted, she felt him pause for a half-second on every new spot he touched with his lips or hands as if he was trying to learn the meaning of every sigh and moan she had to give him. He'd drive her half insane with that knowledge later, no doubt, but somehow, she couldn't bring herself to care.

They moved together fluidly, united in this one desire, and there was nothing lovelier, though Ginny knew it couldn't last. It had been a long time coming, and she was all the more impatient for the endless wait. Already she felt herself getting sloppy with the pleasure, the physicality of the act taking control over her conscious mind. Blissfully, she gave herself over to it, allowed the certainty of this raw need to overrule her doubts. There would be a time to wonder what was going to happen, but it was not now: there was only one ending to this, and Ginny was hurtling towards it at breakneck speed, rolling with the ebb and flow of sensation to climb higher, higher-

"Well," Malfoy said, after, as Ginny lay wedged between him and the sofa cushions, dazed by glorious afterglow mixed with the fatigue of several days' stress. He'd collapsed in a sweaty heap, too, but he'd caught his breath enough to affect his smug drawl. "And here I was starting to give up on _that_ ever happening to me."

She would've thought - if she'd ever imagined this moment - the tension between them would become awkwardness, but when she turned her head and looked into Malfoy's shining eyes, it was so easy to reply, "What, sex?" and giggle.

"You may joke," he said grandly, and she knew he had to be well-pleased with himself and all the world to pass up the opportunity for bickering. "_I_ know the truth."

Ginny rolled over on her side and propped her head up on her arm. "Which is?"

"You never thought you'd end up here either." He indicated the room with a sweeping gesture of his arm. "_I_ convinced you."

He wasn't wrong. "How do you rationalise this?" she asked softly. "You and me, I mean?"

"I don't know that I have to," Malfoy shrugged.

"No?" she asked with genuine curiosity.

"This is just the next logical step in our relationship."

Her first impulse was to deny, deny, deny, and one of these days, she would have to consider what that said about her supposed Gryffindor bravery. It didn't use to be like this, she thought, _I_ didn't. Under Malfoy's pale, intent gaze, she shifted around on the sofa. The sweaty skin of her backside stuck to the leather. Suddenly, she didn't feel so comfortable anymore. "Depends how you define 'relationship'."

"I don't know, Weasley. I've wanted to shag you for the better part of five years. Isn't that good enough?"

"I suppose," Ginny said, but somehow the words felt hollow. She sat up and fished behind the back of the sofa for her jumper.

He grabbed her hands, stopping her from pulling up her camisole. "I want what I want. And what I want, I get."

That still didn't explain anything about her life's choices, but it made sense for him, the spoiled brat. "Is that a rule of life?"

"Yeah," he grinned. "And today, what I wanted was you. This."

Today. It could be okay, all of this, if she told herself it was just for today. Release the tension, once and for all, so they could go back to normal tomorrow. There was no shame in wanting an hour's reprieve before she had to put her clothes back on and go be responsible, grown up, strong for the children.

"Yeah," she said quietly, tossing her jumper at the other end of the sofa and snuggling back down into the cushions, the warmth of his body. "Me too."

"So there." He laid an arm around her shoulders and, to her surprise, pressed a kiss to her temple. "Gryffindor moralization ruins everything. Let's talk about something else."

"Like what?" Ginny couldn't imagine what Slytherins would consider sexy pillow talk. "You know the only thing we both love is arguing."

"Hmm. I think there's something else." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as he shifted closer so she could feel his bare skin against hers.

In spite of their shared body heat, she shivered pleasantly. If this was a one-time-only sort of thing, perhaps they should make the most of it. Undecided, she laid a hand on his chest, halfway between pushing him away and pulling him closer, when Malfoy reached under the sofa for his wand and waved it in a sloppy half-circle over their heads.

A heavy book sailed through the air and dropped down onto Ginny's legs. "Oof," she made.

Malfoy snickered. "The annual catalogue from Quality Quidditch Supplies. Just in," he said happily, presenting her with the thick tome. "The one thing we can agree to love."

"Quidditch?" She had to laugh; it was true enough. "Come to think of it, I need a new broom."

"A new Nimbus?" Malfoy began to leaf through the pages of the catalogue, which now hovered above them at convenient reading height. "The new model Firebolt looks great. Very aerodynamic. The handle is slimmer now and the twigs a little shorter-"

Ginny let out an undignified noise that was half giggle, half moan. "Keep talking."

He paused his search to look at her, amusement softening the sharp angles of his face. "It's Quidditch that does it for you? But of course. If I'd known you were this easy..."

"You would've done...what?" she countered, but Malfoy didn't rise to the challenge.

He leaned over and kissed her smiling mouth, nipping playfully at her lower lip. "I saw a few of your matches, you know," he murmured, lips twitching into that secret smile of his that she could never quite figure out. "You were actually a pretty good Chaser."

She waited for the inevitable punch line, but it never came. "Oh." For a moment, she didn't know what to say. "Which matches did you see?"

"The one against the Wasps in the millenium season. That was a great match. I portkeyed in to Ireland to watch you play the Ballycastle Bats too, actually. And then the one against the Cannons the year after that..."

"My brother was so mad I beat his favourite team." Ginny smiled at the memory.

"He's an idiot for supporting the Cannons, but what else is new," he smirked. "I saw you score a hundred points in penalties against the Tutshill Tornadoes. You know, before that foul knocked you off your broom."

Her smile faded. That had been the match in which she'd gotten injured; her last match. Malfoy, though, talked about it so matter-of-factly that she could swallow down the lump in her throat and say, without even a hint of anger, "Would've scored more if not for that crash."

His arm around her tightened. "Yeah, you probably would've."

Ginny raised her head off his shoulder to look at his face, shadowed against the glow of the fireplace. "Are you being nice to me?"

Malfoy laughed. "I thought that was obvious."

She slapped him across his bare chest. "You never told me you saw that match."

"Did you want to talk about it?" He shrugged when she shook her head. "Didn't think so."

A million times they'd fought, a million opportunities he'd had to hurt her. But he hadn't, never like that. Slowly, hesitantly, Ginny leaned over and pressed her lips to his, only for a second. His mouth was warm and shaped itself into a smile under her soft touch. She broke away almost immediately, suddenly feeling shy in spite of all they'd shared before, and just then, he didn't have a clever comment ready when she looked at him. He only stared back at her, his eyes chasing the flickering specks of light across her face like he wanted to take in all of her at once.

"You..." Ginny tried, but there were no tender words between them that couldn't be twisted and shaped later, like iron pokers, by the heat of their combined tempers. Perhaps it was better not to say anything at all.

Malfoy waited out her silence, uncharacteristically patient. Then he nodded once and remarked with all the relish of telling a favourite joke, "I know. Don't be embarrassed, I've rendered many a woman speechless."

Ginny laughed, and the spell was broken. "You _would _think that's a good thing."

Suddenly, she was on her back and Malfoy was above her, pushing her into the sofa. She snorted out a giggle. "Oh, it is," he drawled. "Here, let me-"

There was a knock on the door. "Professor Malfoy," the squeaky voice of a teenage boy sounded through the wood, "the common room is flooding!"

"Bloody hell, can't we catch a break." Malfoy rolled off her immediately and almost fell off the sofa. He struggled to a standing position, his trousers still around his knees and his shirt hanging off his shoulders, crumpled and sweaty. "No wonder Professor Snape used to be so moody."

Ginny propped herself up on her elbows, feeling strangely bereft. "Does this happen often?"

"Once in a while. Ow!" The shoe he'd Summoned hit him squarely in the face.

Biting back a laugh, she took mercy on him and waved her wand to fasten the buttons on his shirt that she'd undone earlier, then grabbed her jumper and smoothed down her skirt. In spite of the haste with which he was dressing, he managed to glance around at her pulling up her knickers. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, and she could tell that he meant it. "You'd better come and help, I can't afford to lose any kids to drowning."

Ginny ran a hand through her tangled hair, hoping she didn't look as thoroughly shagged as she felt. Her cheeks glowed. "I'm ready."

Malfoy opened the door to reveal Wilkes, the prefect. The boy was making rowing motions with his arms as if he expected a great flood to come sweeping them along any second now. He looked faintly panicked, but maybe that was just because Malfoy was glaring. "It wasn't me, Professor!"

"Of course not," Malfoy snarled, the effect of which was ruined by the look of him, pink-cheeked and disheveled.

A trickle of water was starting to run down the corridor. Malfoy used his wand to gather up the puddles that were forming outside his office door and pushed the water back, ahead of him, as he followed Wilkes up the hall.

Ginny went along, bemused. "_...How_?"

"You know how our common room is under the lake?"

"Yes?"

"They must've managed to crack one of the windows. The water pressure did the rest. A duel, probably. Wilkes?"

"I think so, sir," the boy said. He caught Ginny's eye and smirked. "Hello there, Professor Weasley."

Malfoy's influence on those children was apparent. Ginny raised an eyebrow, staring right back at Wilkes until the boy coughed and looked away. She helped Malfoy stem the flow of water, which was growing stronger the closer they got to the common room. "Good thing we were down here just now, working."

Malfoy's glance told her she couldn't have been more obvious. His lips twitched. "Yes," he drawled, "good thing. Wilkes, what did I make you prefect for? Go and check that none of the first years drowned in their rooms."

Water was leaking through the cracks of the wall behind which the common room was hidden. The secret door slid aside at a tap of Malfoy's wand, and a wave of lake water burst into the hall, drenching him completely. "When I catch who did this...!"

Ginny stifled a laugh. They waded inside, finding a lot of water sloshing around the common room as in a half-empty fish bowl. The students were suspiciously absent, having fled the scene. Wilkes too disappeared as quickly as he could manage, treading water. Ginny and Malfoy worked together, one forcing the leakage to retreat back through the crack in the window while the other stopped the wall of water behind it from crashing in on them. "Are you almost finished?" Malfoy asked. "We can dry the rest later."

Ginny managed to reverse the trickle of water enough that only a few puddles remained on the floor. "Reparo," she commanded then, and the window sealed itself as if it had never been broken. "There. You might want to cast some reinforcement charms. Who builds windows underwater, anyway?"

"It's nice. Sometimes you can see mermaids swimming past. And when the sun hits the lake just so, there's this emerald glow..." He noticed her smiling at him and trailed off. "What?"

"How poetic."

Malfoy pursed his lips. "You're hopeless. Dry the sofa cushions, will you."

A door to the left opened with a wet, sucking noise, and a first-year girl appeared, sobbing. She was drenched from head to toe. "P-p-professor, there's a d-d-dead fish in my b-b-bed."

Malfoy released a weary sigh. He crouched down so he and the girl were face to face. "Don't worry about it, Daisy, it's just a fish."

Daisy's face flooded with colour. "It's not just a f-f-fish, P-p-professor, it was my Transfiguration homework."

"Oh. Well." Malfoy patted her shoulder bracingly. "Stop crying. Everyone's going to have dead fish in their beds tonight. I'll come down to clean in a minute. No one will ever know what happened; you can just tell the headmistress your fish swam off when the dorm got flooded."

The girl sniffled. "Okay."

"Run along now." As Daisy scampered off, he turned around to find Ginny watching him curiously. "What?"

"If the governors start an investigation, I'll vouch for you," she said, walking up to him to take his hand between hers. "I'm not going to let you get in trouble."

"I'm not going to get in trouble." All the same, he held on to her hands.

"Good," she smiled.

"Why?" He drew her closer and lowered his voice, only for her to hear. "Do you need me around for..._something_?"

"Please. You're not _that _good," she said, because they'd long perfected this code of theirs and she was going to keep saying the opposite of what she meant until the truth stopped feeling so outrageous. She peered up at him, watching Malfoy's mouth twitch smugly, and suddenly wanted to say something nice, regardless. "We're a team, aren't we."

"That's one word for it," he smirked, and then a discreet cough startled them both.

"Draco," Mrs Malfoy said, "I'd like to speak with you." She stood by the door, her hands folded primly in front of her, and looked around with keen eyes that seemed to take in everything from the sopping wet sofa cushions to Ginny still holding Malfoy's hand.

Ginny stepped back. "I'll go see what my students are up to." She could only hope the children hadn't burned down Gryffindor Tower in the meantime; she certainly wouldn't have noticed.

Mrs Malfoy gave a curt nod as Ginny passed her on the way out. "This place is quite unchanged, right down to the weak windows," Ginny heard her say to Malfoy. "I can't say the same about you, though."

"Mother-"

"Draco."

Ginny stopped in a dark nook by the doorway, listening. There was a whooshing sound, as of a sudden gust of wind rushing through the room, and when Malfoy said "Thanks," Ginny surmised that his mother had dried him off with a hot air charm.

"What are you doing?" Mrs Malfoy asked without preamble. "Don't think I didn't see how you look at her."

Ginny wondered whether Narcissa was as paranoid as her son, or if Malfoy really did look at her in a particular way that was unnoticeable to Ginny.

"Have you forgotten who you are?" Mrs Malfoy continued. "Who that girl is? A Weasley is hardly a suitable match for a Malfoy, not to mention that your fathers despise each other-"

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you." Malfoy sounded unduly amused. "The argument didn't hold up when you were young, and it doesn't now. You know, _if_ I was considering her in terms of being a 'suitable match'. Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"You can't be serious."

"If you're so sure of that, there's no need for you to lecture me, is there," he pointed out. "What did you want?"

"Don't be rude." Narcissa sighed. "The potions are set to simmer overnight. I was hoping you'd accompany me home. The Greengrasses are coming round for dinner. They're bringing their girls."

Malfoy groaned. "Mother-"

"Please, Draco," she said. "You always liked Daphne, didn't you."

"I...got on well enough with Daphne, but-"

"Do you remember her sister, Astoria? Such an ugly duckling, but she's grown up quite pretty. I met them in Diagon Alley the other day, they're lovely girls-"

"I couldn't possibly leave my students right now, I'm sorry," Malfoy said, not sounding sorry at all. "You must understand that, Mother."

"It would only be for an hour or two, Draco. You need to get out in society once in a while, meet people, have civilised conversations! You can't spend all your time with Ginny Weasley." She lowered her voice. "Give Astoria a chance to meet you before you lose more of your hair."

"Have a good day, Mum," Malfoy said fondly. "I will see you tomorrow."

"I only want you to be happy, you know," his mother sniffed, sounding affronted. Ginny sort of appreciated that there was someone Malfoy couldn't just summarily dismiss, at least until Mrs Malfoy said, "Don't go believing the girl isn't thinking about these things. She's, what, a year younger than you? Pushing thirty, and she's a Weasley so she probably wants a litter of children. The clock is ticking for her, _and_ she's poor. She probably dreams of making a catch like you-"

Ginny was about to storm back into the common room to give Mrs Malfoy a piece of her mind, but Malfoy beat her to it: he actually laughed in his mother's face. "_You_ were poor. I bet granddad Abraxas said these same things about you," he said. "With respect, Mother, you have no idea what you're talking about. I know you consider marriage the best thing that could happen to anyone, but you'll have to leave it up to me to decide for myself."

"Will I?" Narcissa asked. There was a pregnant pause. "Well, at least her family is on the List."

Ginny didn't know why she was surprised; the List of true Pureblood families was a load of rubbish, in her opinion, but if anyone would still pay attention to an outdated pamphlet like that, it would be the Malfoys. It would probably be pointless to argue with people like that, but that didn't mean Ginny didn't want to. She'd heard enough. Huffing, she stomped out, making sure the sound of her footfalls carried back to the common room. If she could've slammed the door, she would have, but the wall opened and closed noiselessly for her, allowing her to vent none of her frustration.

Ginny didn't know what annoyed her more, Mrs Malfoy's assumptions or the way her son dismissed them so readily. Ginny certainly wasn't after Malfoy's gold, if she was after his anything, and she was glad that he knew it, but she'd rather not have heard him laugh off the thought of anything serious happening between them as if it was utterly ridiculous. It made what they'd done earlier seem like a cheap thrill, and their encounter had meant more than that to Ginny even if she couldn't have put into words what, exactly, it had meant.

Moodily, she climbed the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, hoping against hope that disaster hadn't struck there, too, in her absence. It had been silly to think that they could just disappear together and have the world forget about them for a while. Reality always had a way of catching up and slapping her over the head, and Ginny felt sobered with it. The lovely languor from an hour ago had passed, leaving behind only cold sweat and exhaustion.

Back to work it was.


	7. Chapter 7

Gryffindor Tower was still standing – thank goodness for small mercies – but the students seemed more subdued than usual, looking at Ginny with worried eyes as she made her rounds. She gave a few orders to make beds and tidy up, trying to maintain a sense of normalcy. There was a fight over a rare chocolate frog card to mediate, a homesick first-year to comfort, and a few boys complained when Ginny told them to get on with Defence homework. "Lessons will be cancelled anyway, surely, Professor!"

"Lessons will not be cancelled," Ginny told them firmly, and pinned a note to the same effect to the bulletin board, too. In truth, she had no idea what would happen by tonight, never mind the next day, but the children needed their routine and she was going to keep it up until the headmistress decided otherwise.

In the common room, the giggly group of seventh-year girls who annoyed Ginny so were sitting together, whispering among themselves. Ginny felt weary, but some of the girls looked like they'd been crying, so she went over. "What's the matter, Dagmar? Athena?"

Dagmar drew a shuddering breath. "Are the Slytherins any better, Professor?" she asked, nervously twisting the ends of the purple ribbons that she'd twisted through her dark ringlets.

"No, I'm afraid not," Ginny said.

The quartet glanced at each other and, as one, burst into tears. "S-sorry, P-professor." The second girl, Athena, who had no business being named after the goddess of wisdom in Ginny's opinion, sniffled her way through an explanation. "It's just that Thusnelda's parents have a timeshare in Mexico. We were all going to Portkey over after we're done with our NEWTs."

"It's the last time it's ever going to be like this," a third girl, Phoebe, said tearfully. "All of us friends together."

Ginny didn't know exactly what a timeshare was, but she understood that the loss was felt keenly. She hadn't had any patience for teenage drama when she'd been a girl, and she had even less now, but vacation aside, the girls' concern for their friend was real. Ginny felt guilty that she'd wished Thusnelda Brown, the gossipy Slytherin, into the hospital wing, only to find out that the girl really was sick like her housemates.

"Thusnelda is going to be fine. All of them are," she told the students even though she had no idea if it was true. Considering the alternative was just too depressing. Suddenly, she felt all of the girls' grief. "You'll take your trip, don't worry." They nodded, but Ginny could tell that they didn't quite believe her.

They glanced at each other again in that silent way of communication that was a mystery to Ginny. "What about Professor Malfoy?" Dagmar asked then. "Is he going to get sacked?"

"Not as long as I'm here," Ginny said without thinking, and that did it: the girls released a collective sigh and, as if a weight had been lifted, perked up. Ginny looked into their gleeful faces, wishing she could be that young and silly. "Why don't you go down to check on Thusnelda and the others? And send Johnny and his boys up, I'm sure Madam Pomfrey could use a bit of quiet while she works."

The girls went to powder their noses first, giggling quietly as they stole glances back at Ginny. At least she'd cheered them up, however unwittingly. She couldn't bring herself to be sorry for it; however she might feel about him or he might feel about her, Malfoy needed a friend, someone to back him up right now.

The girls weren't wrong to wonder about his future at Hogwarts; all the blame for what was happening rested on Malfoy at this point, and if Madam Pomfrey didn't figure out the mystery illness soon, his position would quickly become untenable. Ginny didn't know why the thought hadn't occurred to her before, but she was beginning to wonder if the attack on the students might not be personal, an easy way to get to Malfoy. Surely, his family still had enemies enough, not just among the people they'd hurt in one way or other, but also their former allies, whom they'd betrayed in the final hours of the war. Using the students as a means for revenge was atrocious, but that didn't mean someone wouldn't do it in cold blood. And if the children weren't safe, no one was; especially not Malfoy himself.

Realising that her thoughts had once again circled back to him, Ginny gave up on getting anything productive done and escaped to her office with every intention of having a half-hour rest in her comfortable armchair. However, when she entered, Professor McGonagall was standing by the window, looking out over the school grounds. Ginny braced herself for a remark about her lengthy absence, but none came. McGonagall just sighed and said, "I've always thought this was the best office in the castle. I miss the view. Do you like it here, Miss Weasley?"

Taken aback, Ginny said, "Um, yes. Of course."

The headmistress turned around, looking at Ginny over the rim of her spectacles. "I know you were not fully happy when you accepted the position here. And on days like this, I can't blame you."

"What did the parents say?" Ginny asked, gesturing for the headmistress to sit down in one of the visitors' chairs in front of Ginny's desk while she took the second one for herself. It felt wrong to sit behind her desk with McGonagall in front.

The older witch sat down heavily. She'd never struck Ginny as old, but now she looked small and almost a little frail, disappearing into the folds of her tartan robes. "What you would expect," McGonagall said. "That half of Slytherin falling ill on our watch is unacceptable, and that they want a full investigation by the board of governors. Two of them said they would have their children transferred to St Mungo's if there is no improvement by tomorrow. You know what a scandal that will be."

Perhaps the students would be better cared for at St Mungo's, but Ginny knew that Madam Pomfrey was extremely competent. If she was puzzled by the students' illness, the staff at St Mungo's wouldn't immediately find a cure either, and besides, the explanation to this mystery would be found at Hogwarts; Ginny was sure of it.

"Mrs Malfoy said she'd continue working tomorrow morning, the potions need to simmer," Ginny told the headmistress. She wished they could've had results sooner.

"Ah, yes, Mrs Malfoy." McGonagall tapped the end of her wand on Ginny's desk in agitation. "I can only hope her presence here won't get us in trouble. Mrs Tonks was very upset when I told her, and I doubt the other parents will feel much differently. But Mr Malfoy was so convinced his mother could help us find out what's being hidden at Honeydukes."

"It's a desperate situation, anyone would understand," Ginny said.

The headmistress harrumphed. "I knew her as a girl. Very beautiful, very clever. She could have had a career in potions, in which case we wouldn't be risking a reprimand from the Ministry now for bringing in a layperson, but she was determined to marry that awful boy, and _he_ hung her with jewels and told her his wife mustn't work. What a waste. Her son reminds me of her, so set on having his way. You'll keep an eye on him? He's…unpredictable when he's under pressure."

Ginny didn't know why the observation surprised her. After all, Professor McGonagall had known them all since they were children. "Of course I will."

"Good. The Ministry is sending us an Auror team later for a preliminary report, I couldn't put it off. I requested Mr Potter, but I understand he's very busy."

"I don't think he'll be too busy for this," Ginny said, relieved. Harry was great to have around in a crisis.

"I hope so."

The headmistress looked so weary that Ginny was loath to burden her more, but she felt that she had no choice. "Headmistress – have you considered that all of this might be personal, a way to get at Malfoy?"

"Yes, I have," McGonagall said instantly, "and so has his mother, I'm sure, or she wouldn't have been so quick to come to our aid. We have to keep our eyes open."

"Constant vigilance," Ginny said with a rueful smile.

"Exactly." The headmistress rose, casting one last look out the window. "I know I can trust you to be watchful, Miss Weasley."

Ginny would be, but that didn't mean she didn't feel the burden of the task. "We'll figure this out," she told McGonagall as much as herself. "Don't worry, Headmistress."

McGonagall sized her up with one long look, and then she nodded at Ginny with grave seriousness. "I am glad it was you who succeeded me as Head of Gryffindor. I hope you've learned to feel the same way."

Ginny nodded, feeling embarrassed by such praise, from the headmistress no less, when she'd been so spectacularly absent-minded, if not downright absent. But there was time yet to set things right; she had to believe it.

When McGonagall had left, Ginny took her place by the window. She stared out at the sunlit scenery as she mulled over every little detail of the situation, trying to find an explanation, and preferably one that wouldn't put Malfoy in immediate danger of getting sacked or worse. There was none. At this point, the effects of the whole thing were too far-reaching for a prank, and it couldn't have been an accident, either. Someone was always sucking on a sugar quill; if Ambrosius Flume had slipped up on the dosage of his secret ingredients, the whole school would be affected, but only the Slytherins had been. Ginny wouldn't put it past the unpleasant man to poison Malfoy's batch of candy on purpose, but there was still the question of why.

The door opening startled her from her thoughts. "Hey," Malfoy said, letting himself in without knocking. He was smiling slightly, and Ginny felt a funny stab at her insides and quickly looked out the window again.

"Has your family ever had stock in sweets?" she asked offhandedly.

"No," Malfoy said, and chortled. "Not that I know of. Sorry, I just imagined my father dealing in confectionery… Why do you ask?"

"Wondering why Flume might do something like this." She stared out at the sun sinking lower over the mountains until dark spots danced behind her lids and her eyes began to water. She longed to take her broom out for a quick ride that would clear her head, but there was no time for _more_ extracurricular activities right now. Ginny glanced back at Malfoy, noticed that he was inching around her desk to join her by the window, and pointed her finger firmly at the visitors' chair like she was training an ill-behaved puppy. "Sit."

He raised his eyebrows, but complied. Ginny sat down across from him, pushing aside stacks of essays and the Quidditch pages of the Daily Prophet to make room on her desk for her elbows. She braced her arms on the desktop and forced herself to look at Malfoy with businesslike intent. "I think if he did this, it was on purpose."

Malfoy looked at her oddly, but after a moment, he nodded. "I agree."

It seemed strange for them to be sitting together like this, actually having a civilised conversation. Ginny felt this keenly, and had to resist the urge to go join Malfoy on the other side of the desk, where she could sit on the arm of his chair and be close enough to poke him when he annoyed her or kiss him if he didn't. The glow of their earlier encounter hadn't quite faded; her body still hummed with it even as she tried to sit still, the crumpled fabric of her clothes chafing on her skin and her knickers sticking to the inside of her leg.

Ginny sighed, and tried to put all of that out of her mind. "What else do we know?"

He blinked. "Oh. Well. I was just at the hospital. No one else has fallen ill yet-"

"Thank goodness," she said.

"…Yes, but _if _Flume poisoned my order, the Hufflepuffs should be showing symptoms by now. They had the same toffees Singh did." He frowned. "It makes no sense."

Now that Ginny thought about it, there really was no pattern to who had been affected, not if they tried to trace the illness through the candy from Malfoy's stock.

"And there's something else," he said. "I took attendance just now, to make sure we're not missing anyone else. I only have third years and up in the hospital, except for Ted. All the other first and second years are fine."

"That's…odd." She tapped her lip with one finger, thinking. "So what does Ted have in common with the older students?"

"He's popular, maybe they shared something with him that the younger kids didn't have. They _were_ all muttering about candy." Malfoy sighed. "I have no idea."

Teddy was the one out of all the Slytherins that meant the most to Malfoy, so if someone was trying to get to him, Teddy made the perfect target. But how would anyone get him alone among all the students in his year? Could the candy be spelled to only affect certain people? Or was all of this coincidence? She huffed. Perhaps she should put in a Floo call to Hermione, they clearly needed more brainpower. "Okay. I'm stumped."

"We need to wait," he said, "See what my mother can tell us."

"Yes, let's put all our faith in _your mother_." Ginny felt frustrated to the point of snapping. There had to be something they could do, something that didn't involve Mrs Malfoy and her superior ways.

"Yes, I think I will," Malfoy said. "And you trust Mrs Tonks, don't you? So in any case, we should know more in the morning."

"And until then?"

Malfoy, of course, chose the worst time and place to force his peculiar brand of cheer on her. "I could think of a few ways to pass the time."

"Oh, shut up," Ginny said forcefully enough to nip his bloody smirk in the bud. "I heard you talking to your mother earlier."

He shrugged carelessly as if he and his mother had discussed nothing more important than the weather. "I know. She meant for you to, no doubt. I wish you hadn't done her the favour."

"Yeah, well, so do I." Ginny pitched her voice to imitate his mother's posh tone, "_At least she's on the List_."

Malfoy's lips twitched. "She likes to meddle when she gets bored."

"That's not an excuse for calling me a whore."

"She did not call you a whore."

"She might as well have." Ginny glowered at him. "The last thing I want from you is your gold."

Grinning, he rocked back on two legs of the chair. "What _do_ you want from me, Weasley?"

If only she knew the answer to that. Flushing, Ginny decided that attacking was still the best way of defence. "Well, what do you want?"

They stared at each other, as equally matched in stubbornness as they were in everything else, until she couldn't stand it anymore. Were they really regressing this fast? She looked away at the papers that were scattered over her desk, abandoned the night before when she'd gone to see him. It seemed like much longer since she'd sat here with no greater concern than grading homework.

In the light of how their relationship had progressed in the last forty-eight hours alone, the incessant back-and-forth seemed so silly. Suddenly, Ginny felt tired enough to put her head down on the desk and sleep through the next school year. Her shoulder ached dully. She would've done anything for a long, hot bath and a dose of Madam Pomfrey's painkillers. "All right. These essays will just have to count as extra credit at the end of the year because I'm not grading them tonight."

From the corner of her eye, she could see Malfoy nodding slowly. "You have to forgive my mother," he said, more seriously now. "She feels she's looking out for me."

Ginny did not feel that she 'had to' do anything, nor did she want to discuss all the things Mrs Malfoy had said, or the way he'd reacted to them. Perhaps she was being unfair – 'nothing complicated' was what she'd said, after all – but being dismissed in the same breath as the Greengrass sisters had stung. He and Ginny were friends, or at the very least colleagues, and even before that, they'd been schoolkids with a centuries-old family feud between them. Malfoy had always been a part of her life, special enough to stand out and warrant hexing, and she'd thought he felt the same way about her.

She rubbed her hands over her face, wanting to bash her head in against the desktop. After Harry, she'd dated Dean, and a friend of George's, and even a Muggle who was a patient of Hermione's mother's, and with all of them, she'd known exactly what would come of it: nothing at all. And that had been all right, but with Malfoy, she couldn't ever hope to remain unaffected. She felt foolish for thinking that she could, and for actually expecting him to be her friend.

As the silence dragged on, she felt his eyes on her, sizing her up, trying to find a crack in her façade where he could break through. She felt around for a light remark, but there was nothing to be said. All these years, and Ginny had finally run out of words to say, or shout, or even cry. What she wanted, she realised with terror prickling over her skin, was to get up, go to him, and have him kiss away the hurt as he held her.

But it was never going to be like that.

She shuffled some papers and tried to affect a tone of disinterest as she said, "You said she was poor."

He started. "Pardon?"

"Your mother?"

"Oh – yes. The Noble and Ancient and also destitute House of Black. When my granddad Malfoy forced the Blacks' Apothecary out of business, there went the only source of income they'd ever bothered to develop. By the time my mother was born, grandfather Black and his brother had squandered what remained of the family fortune. I've seen pictures, they kept up appearances, but it must've been hard. My mother's priorities are, well. She's talked about going hungry for a new ballgown." He smiled to himself. "Imagine the family parties when I was a boy – five minutes with my grandfathers in the same room and everyone wanted to hide under the dinner table. I usually did."

Ginny looked up from her papers, found him smiling, and quickly looked away again. "How did your parents ever get together?"

"How you'd expect. At Hogwarts, this nursery of mésalliances. They were housemates. You know how it goes. There's lots of dark hiding places down in the dungeons…why am I talking about this?" He shuddered exaggeratedly. "They were friends. It just happened. Why are you upset?"

Ginny knocked over a stack of homework scrolls, which rolled off her desk. She leaned down to retrieve them from under a cabinet. "'It just happened'? Your mother's not the type to leave anything to chance."

"She isn't," he said from above. Ginny heard his chair scrape against the floor as he stood up.

"So she's the gold digger," Ginny muttered, perversely pleased by this bit of information. Knowing some embarrassing details about Mrs Malfoy might prove useful at some point. Ginny quirked a rueful smile. Malfoy's ways were rubbing off on her.

"Nah, my father isn't stupid. It'd be too dangerous to have a wife who's good at potions and hates you." Suddenly Malfoy was beside her, crouching down behind her desk and getting his robes dusty. "You could just use _Accio_, you know."

"Get up, I've got it!" She brushed dust motes off the dark wool of his clothes, making a mental note to redo the self-cleaning charms in her office as she tried to touch Malfoy in the most businesslike manner possible. It wasn't easy; she felt the warmth of his body even through his robes, and was reminded how lovely it had been, snuggled up on his sofa together not two hours ago.

He caught her hands in his and, when she resisted him, simply wrapped his arms around her, locking her in his embrace. "You don't care about my mother," he stated without the shadow of a doubt. "And you don't care what she thinks about you, either."

"No, I don't," Ginny agreed, trying to wriggle free.

"So what did I…" He raised his eyebrows. "What did you want me to tell her about us?"

"Would you let me go, we have stuff to do, McGonagall said-"

"Ginny, _what did you want me to say_?"

She planted her hands on his chest and pushed him back. "Stop it. McGonagall said we have Aurors coming in tonight. With any luck, they'll send us Harry-"

Malfoy let her go then. He stood briskly, wrapping his dusty robes around him with the air of someone putting on battle armour. "Yes, that's just what we need. Potter prancing around here."

"Can we not? For the sake of the children? We need help, and Harry's good at what he does." Ginny climbed to her feet, brushing off her skirt.

"I know, Potter's perfect," Malfoy sneered.

She gritted her teeth. "You're welcome to go have dinner with the Greengrass sisters. You can come back when Harry's left."

"Oh, sure, I'm going to make way for Potter! This place is _mine_, they're _my_ students, and-" He broke off, hovering over Ginny like a dark cloud, lightning flashing in his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere." And then he was kissing her with all the brazen promise of their newfound intimacy, and Ginny couldn't resist; she bit at his lip, causing him to break away, panting. "Fine," he gasped, "Be mad. I can handle mad."

"You've had lots of practice," she snapped.

"I have. I'm an expert. Give it to me."

"What?"

"Whatever you're dying to say."

"I'm not."

"Then why are we not kissing?"

Ginny threw up her hands; words failed her. Had he always gotten what he wanted, for as long as he'd lived? "I'm not your plaything!"

Malfoy frowned. "I didn't-" and then the door opened and one of Ginny's prefects stuck her head inside. Her eyes widened when she saw Ginny together with Malfoy.

"Sorry, Professor Weasley, the headmistress sent me. Mr Potter is here, he's looking for you."

"Of course he is," Malfoy muttered under his breath.

"I'll be right there, Sally," Ginny said.

"He's up in the hospital," Sally informed her, and mercifully disappeared with just one last, shrewd look.

"Not one word!" Ginny told Malfoy when she saw him draw breath.

"I just-" Malfoy began.

"Nu-uh!" She wagged a finger in his face. "Don't."

"Why? Scared I'm going to tell Potter you shagged me?" he sneered.

Ginny didn't_ do _embarrassed – six brothers and an overbearing mother meant that she'd had to develop a thick skin early on in life – but what had happened with Malfoy was different somehow than her romantic episodes with various boyfriends. It was complicated in spite of her best efforts not to make it so: there had been something very intimate about opening herself up to that kind of desire again after so many years. She felt vulnerable with it; Malfoy couldn't use it against her, not this.

Of course, telling him he couldn't do something was probably the surest way to make him want to.

"I'm not scared," she said, peering up at him intently. "You're not going to tell."

"And why's that?"

"Because you want me to do it again." She only realised how true that was when his lips twitched, and a smile forced its way through the gloom of his perpetual disdain. Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt pleased and silly for it when he shrugged and nodded.

"All right. You got me there."

Ginny knew it was she who'd initiated their earlier encounter, and it was she who held all the power to make it happen again, but even so, she felt that she was making things too easy for him. Much as she wanted it to be true, it would be a lie to say that touching him once had satisfied her need for physical closeness. If anything, she wanted him more now that she had told herself she couldn't have him again. She could give in and sleep with him once without it having to mean anything, but if she did it again, it'd be no casual sex; it would become _something_ to which she could give no name, but which would build between them anyway until it became an obstacle they could never get past.

They stared at each other for a long, tense moment, hovering just at the edge of that invisible barrier that came crashing down between them so easily as soon as Ginny gave only the slightest bit. Where Malfoy was concerned, she'd always had little restraint, no matter if she was cursing or kissing him, and she knew just how easy it would be to give in now, take that step forward that would carry her into his arms and sweet oblivion. Forgotten were her own words, his mother's snide ones and his careless reply, or maybe Ginny just didn't care after all. With her heartbeat thundering in her ears, she heard nothing, and only knew that whoever was playing whom, she desperately wanted this game to continue.

It took all her self-control, but with a slight shudder, she took a step back. "Be good," she told herself as much as Malfoy.

He sighed deeply, but it was a sound of pleasure, not of defeat. "I'm going to be good," he promised in a rare show of compliance, "But it's so hard when my clothes still smell like you."

They were never going to get anything done at this rate: not with him glancing at her with lust in his eyes and her body responding instantly to his look, tensing and aching so deliciously and reminding her of what they could be doing together instead of arguing. It was no good. Huffing, Ginny grabbed his hand and dragged him out of her office and up the stairs. "It'll be easier for you with Harry there." Actually, it would be easier for both of them.

"I hate Potter," Malfoy said, with feeling.

Ginny snorted. "I'm sure it's entirely mutual, if that's any consolation."

"It is. Just a bit."

That reminded her of an earlier line of thought. "Who else feels that way about you, do you think?"

"Is that a trick question?"

"No." She glanced back at him, found him smiling a little, and felt her heart constrict painfully inside her chest. In the shadows of the stairwell, she stopped him, her hands braced against his chest. Suddenly, she felt a real need to touch him if only to assure herself that he was okay. "What if someone's trying to get back at you with all this?"

"Me personally, you mean." He didn't sound like the thought had occurred to him only then. His smile faded. "It's possible."

"Going through the children though, that'd be…"

"Extreme." He sort of slumped against the wall behind him and bowed his head, and Ginny felt his chest rise and fall as he sighed deeply. He looked so tired then, it was like all that was holding him up were her hands on him. "I don't know."

"Think about it," she urged. Someone had to have an awful need for vengeance to go to such lengths with it.

"I don't exactly keep a list of who hates me," he huffed. "If this is about me, if it's all because of me, I just… I don't want to know."

"You might be in danger."

"Who cares?"

"I do." Unable to help herself, she rose on tiptoes to kiss the bruise by his lip that her teeth had left earlier. "Work with me here."

His lips twitched tiredly. "You just told me to 'be good'."

"Be good and think."

"Sure, that's what you meant. Why do we always find ourselves snogging in hallways, Weasley? It has no style."

"Oh, now you're complaining?"

"I'm not." He wrapped his long arms around her and held her tightly, her head tucked under his chin, and Ginny couldn't resist the closeness when it came from such genuine need. She curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt and held on to him. "Who'd poison half of Slytherin House just to ruin my life?" He whispered the words into her hair as if it would hurt to hear them spoken too loudly. "My school mates all hate me."

"But they wouldn't hurt the kids from their own house," she said, glancing up at him in disbelief when Malfoy laughed darkly.

"Some of them might. But they're too stupid to stage something this mysterious. That leaves Potter and his gang, various family members of yours, they'd all love to see me sacked-"

Ginny gave him a light punch in the ribs, which wasn't easy while she was wrapped up in his arms. "Haha."

"And, of course, everyone who might hold a grudge against my parents. In other words, half of Britain." For a moment, he was silent, his fists clutching at the back of her jumper. Then, he put her from him and brusquely turned away. "This is not helpful."

Ginny reached for him, but grasped only thin air as he pushed past her and continued up the stairs. "I'm just trying to-"

"Well, don't, all right!" Malfoy called over his shoulder. "It's no good!"

She hurried after him, but he wouldn't let her catch up this time. He walked ahead to the infirmary, his dark robes billowing behind him, and shut the door in her face. Ginny stood outside for a moment, breathing deeply, willing herself to not let him get to her. Malfoy's temper would try a saint's patience, and Ginny was hardly an angel herself. He pushed her limits, and she pushed back harder, and it was like sitting on a seesaw, going up and down with the back and forth of their arguments. She'd long come to accept that they were equally matched; so why could they never be level with each other? It was force keeping them going, nothing else, and she just wanted a bloody break.

Behind the door, she heard murmuring, and then Malfoy's voice rising clearly with fresh annoyance. Belatedly, Ginny remembered that they had a visitor. She flung the door open to find Malfoy almost nose to nose with Harry, having come upon his favourite target at a moment of keen vulnerability, which was always when Malfoy was at his most vicious.

"…just wondering, Malfoy," Harry was saying, "Why's it all Slytherins? Why's it _always_ all Slytherins?"

"If you think I did this…!"

"You said that, I didn't," Harry snapped.

Malfoy's face was contorted with rage; Ginny barely knew him. She'd gotten used to his smiles, she realised, and rushed forward to elbow Malfoy aside and wedge herself between the two men.

"Hey. I'm glad you're here," she said to Harry, reaching out to hug him if only for distraction. "Did Madam Pomfrey fill you in?"

Harry glared at Malfoy over her shoulder, but he said, "The headmistress did. How could this happen so fast? They were all fine yesterday."

Malfoy audibly drew breath, but Ginny elbowed him again, knocking the wind out of him. "_We _don't know." She stressed it enough that Malfoy, behind her, fell silent, and Harry finally turned his attention to her. He looked her up and down and frowned.

"I'm going to have to ask some more questions."

"I already told you, Potter," Malfoy said acerbically, "Look around. There's Ted. These are _my_ kids! It's not me doing this. It's not any of mine." He pushed past Ginny to stand by Teddy's bed. His scowl would've been frightful if his chin hadn't wobbled oddly with it, and Ginny wished she could give him an easy hug, too, to calm him down. But there was nothing easy about Malfoy, never.

Harry glanced around at the unconscious students in the long rows of beds, then back at Malfoy. Slowly, he nodded. "Okay," he said, more calmly. "I believe you."

"So good of you." For once, Malfoy seemed to have had enough. He turned on his heel and marched out, his pale face flushed with anger.

"That was unnecessary," Ginny said to Harry when they were alone. "He wouldn't do anything like this."

"I know. Not to his own," Harry conceded.

"So leave him alone, will you?"

Harry gave her an incredulous look. "It's just Malfoy."

She was surprised how that careless remark got under her skin. She'd become protective of Malfoy: if someone was going to insult him, it was going to be Ginny. "You don't even know what you're talking about!"

"And you do?" Harry asked dryly.

"I think I know him a little better than you do," she said, tilting her chin up at him defiantly.

Harry shrugged. "Much as I try to forget it, I've known Malfoy since we were eleven."

"Exactly. And now you're almost thirty. Things change."

"How so?" Harry's eyes narrowed. "From where I'm standing, he's being a prat as usual."

"He's worried," Ginny said.

Harry looked offended. "No reason to let it out on the people who are trying to help. You know I have to ask questions. It's my _job_."

"You don't have to ask questions you already know the answer to," she insisted. "Questions that get people hurt."

"I'm not trying to pick a fight with him, but if he wants to be difficult, I don't really care about hurting his feelings for the sake of the investigation."

"I care."

"I can tell. You-" Harry broke off and clamped his mouth shut, frowning. There was an awkward pause. "What is this, Ginny?" he forced out then, like the words pained him. "I mean, _Malfoy_?"

"It's just..." She couldn't even begin to explain, and she was annoyed that she'd have to. "He's... We've been through a lot together."

"Oh yeah?" Harry asked bitterly. He shoved his hands into his pockets and scowled.

Ginny's temper sparked. "We've been here for a long time. We've come a long way. He cares about these kids, he's loyal, he's dependable-"

"Dependable!" Harry snorted.

"It's just..." Ginny ran her hands through her messy hair in agitation. Harry knew her; if she looked as frazzled and disheveled as she felt, he'd be able to guess just how much Ginny did not tell him. She didn't owe him an explanation, but suddenly she wanted to make him understand just a little of what she was going through. "He's like a bad rash, okay? It's not like you ask for it, but suddenly it's there, and it's not just going to go away. It's going to keep itching until you break down and scratch it, and when you do, it feels really, really good."

Harry looked deeply disturbed. "Don't you want to get rid of it? Erm, him?"

"It's not… I'm here to stay. So is he. That's how it's going to be." That part was simple enough. The rest of it wasn't. "Might as well make the best of it."

"And what's that?"

"I don't know, okay? Just let me figure it out," she said, perhaps a little more forcefully than she should have. "And in the meantime, leave Malfoy alone while he's worried sick over his students."

"I really am here to help, you know," Harry said, and it sounded not a little hurt.

"I know," Ginny said, softening. She laid a hand on his arm in a silent offer of truce. "Sorry. This job can be so much more stressful than you'd think."

"Well, this_ is_ Hogwarts." He sighed, but then got on with the task at hand. "I came up from the village, my partners and I were sent in to Honeydukes to take a look at the damage. I found this." He held out his fist and, glancing around to make sure no one was looking, opened his hand to show Ginny a shiny Slytherin prefect's badge. "I haven't shown anyone yet, I want to play this close to the chest until I find out what it's got to do with your mystery epidemic."

Ginny frowned. "Well, I suppose any of the prefects could've lost it at the shop, the kids had a Hogsmeade day just last weekend-"

"But I didn't find this upstairs in the shop. It was down in the cellar, under some debris. It had to have been there before the explosion." Madam Pomfrey hurried past with a large bottle and a handful of spoons. Harry slipped the badge into his pocket. "The door was open, too," he whispered. "You know, the one to the secret passageway?"

The secret passageway that led to Hogwarts and ended behind the statue of the one-eyed witch, where they'd rounded up the drugged Slytherins last night. Ginny's breath caught in her throat. "You think they've sneaked into the shop before?"

"They wouldn't be the first ones to sneak out, but no student has ever caused this kind of damage before."

"Damage? You mean the accident at Honeydukes?"

"The explosion may have been an accident, but from the evidence we've gathered, it looks like the shop was robbed first. It was only candy that got taken, mind you. A lot of trouble for some sweets." He frowned."Do you think any of the students would do something like that?"

Ginny snorted. "I think they've got all the candy they could eat up here. Someone would have to be out of their mind-" She broke off, thinking. "Unless they were drugged already before last night."

"Did you notice anything?" Harry asked.

"No," Ginny said, but then she thought about it. "Maybe. Webber – he's that one, over there," she pointed at a bed where the chubby Webber slept, "He's been behaving oddly all week." Something else occurred to her. "Madam Pomfrey? Which of the students fell ill first?"

"Before little Teddy? Mr Levi and Mr Webber, over there," the matron called. "Excuse me, Mr Potter, it's time for their next dose of potion." She continued administering medicine to the students one by one.

Ginny gave Harry a pointed look. "Levi's a prefect."

"All right," Harry said darkly. "I'll have to look into this. We'll need to see if we can find his prefect's badge-"

"If he's got it, it must be on his robes, none of them would dare show up without their badge. Malfoy is extremely strict about maintaining the house spirit." That reminded her she had to go and smooth things over before Malfoy's dark mood spiraled out of control. "There's something else. Malfoy said that no first or second years have fallen ill, aside from Teddy. It's odd, what is it that the older ones have that the first two grades don't?"

Harry considered this. "I don't know. I'll think about it. And I'll call Hermione, she's bored at home on maternity leave now, she'll help us."

Ginny nodded. "Anything I can do?"

"Not for now. I'll just write up a quick memo to Kingsley. That'll give Madam Pomfrey another day or two to sort things out." He looked at Teddy, who appeared like he was sleeping peacefully except for the unnatural pallor of his skin. "I need to get back to Honeydukes, but I want to sit with Teddy for a little while."

Ginny patted his arm. "I'll be outside."

She half-hoped that Malfoy had left; they could all use a moment to breathe, but he was still there, pacing the corridor outside the hospital, ready to have another go at her the moment she stepped through the door.

"Are you two _done_?" he snapped.

"Yes," Ginny said simply. "And Harry had some news." She related her conversation with Harry to Malfoy in quick words, trying to get it over with as soon as possible. If the children were behind the cauldron explosion at Honeydukes too, that added a whole new layer to the situation. Ginny wondered what it meant. Had Ambrosius Flume gone overboard with his secret ingredients, enough so that the children would wreck his shop for their next fix? Things kept getting more complicated.

By the time she was done, she could tell Malfoy was ready to snap. "I'm sorry," she finished. "We've got to go look for Levi's badge, see if it's on his robes or not."

"Let Potter poke around, it's his job, isn't it? He loves to prove Slytherins guilty of something."

"No one's trying to-"

"Oh, please. Did you see the look on his face, earlier? Like it was the kids' fault what happened to them! Or mine." He slapped his hand against the wall. "You know, that is why... That's exactly it."

"What is?" Ginny asked gently.

But he shook his head. "Those kids need me to look out for them – me! – because Mr Ministry of Magic blames them even when they're the victims."

Ginny didn't quite know what to say. "You're a good Head of House," she tried, because it was true.

The corner of Malfoy's mouth that she could see curled slightly, but he didn't say anything for the longest time. "Do you know... Can you even imagine what it was like, being a Slytherin in the days of Harry Potter?" he said then.

"What's your point?" she asked. "No one had it easy back then. You know, what with the war and all."

He gave her a dark look. "Believe me, it wasn't pleasant for us. Always losing out, always second best, and then, at the end-" He broke off, biting down on the rest of it like the words tasted foul. "It's been getting better these past few years, but as soon as something happens, it's we who get the blame. The kids in Slytherin need someone who's on their side."

For a long time, Ginny had thought he was just contrary, stubbornly determined to get what no one wanted him to have when he competed with her for the coveted job. She'd had an inkling of something else sometimes when she saw him with his kids, but she'd never considered how things might look through his eyes.

"Mc Gonagall is fair!" Ginny said after a moment. "She wouldn't allow any group of students to be mistreated."

He rolled his eyes. "She's...all right, but she isn't exactly a nurturer."

"And you are?" Ginny smiled.

Malfoy's face twisted like he wanted to sulk some more, but had been struck by an unwelcome cheering charm: his mouth curled at the corners even as he glared at her. "And what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing. I just never saw you as warm and cuddly," she said dryly, although she'd have to revise that opinion now: he'd been plenty cuddly earlier.

Malfoy seemed to be thinking of the same thing. He reached out, his lips twitching now even though she could tell he was trying hard not to smile, and Ginny let him tug her closer by her sleeve. "You'd be surprised."

She wouldn't be; that was the whole problem, wasn't it? She tilted her head back to look up at Malfoy, who was so close now that she could see the amused glint in his eyes even in the dim light. Her breath hitched; Malfoy leaned in closer.

A door opened down the corridor, and Ginny turned her head just in time to see Harry look at them, his face darkening with a frown. She glanced back imploringly at Malfoy, saw the smirk that was tugging at his mouth, his eyes firmly on Harry even as he leaned in to kiss her, and her stomach dropped. Quickly, she took a few steps back, leaving Malfoy to stumble over his own feet before he caught himself against the opposite wall.

Harry turned on his heel and stalked off.

"_What_ are you doing?" Malfoy asked, annoyance plain in his voice even before Ginny spun around to look at him.

They glared at each other across the hall, the warmth of the previous moments dissipating fast. Ginny folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself. Things could be so easy between them when they were alone, until the rest of the world intruded and with it Malfoy's overwhelming desire to act out, anything for a bit of attention; and the one whose attention he'd always craved most was Harry. She'd been stupid. "What are_ you_ doing?"

"I don't even know," he said coldly. He pushed off the wall and past her, suddenly in a hurry to get away.

Ginny stared after him, marvelling how _he_ was the one who was upset. "I'm sure you'll come up with something," she called. "Don't you have a list somewhere? 'One thousand ways to annoy Harry Potter'? Pick another one of those, don't use me for it."

Malfoy spun around. "You think _I'm_ using _you_?" He laughed, but it was an unpleasant sound, devoid of humour. "You know, I think I'm starting to feel sorry for Dean Thomas and all those other blokes."

She'd thought she'd become impervious to the insults he dished out, but she realised now that the opposite was true: for the first time in a long, long while, he'd chosen his words maliciously, and oh, they hurt.

She couldn't even remember when she'd last drawn her wand with true intent of cursing him, but now, she wanted to hurt him back. Her hand shook as she pointed her wand between his mockingly raised eyebrows. What was it about him, she thought, what was it about _her _that she'd ended up here like this, with him? It would've been comforting to pretend she'd been swept off her feet and into temporary insanity by Malfoy's charm, but no one could ever have accused Malfoy of being too nice. Perhaps he was right; perhaps there was something wrong with her.

"What?" he mocked when she continued to glare at him silently, the tip of her wand pointing at his brow. "Can't handle when a man doesn't fall at your feet?"

"You don't know what you're talking about," Ginny said coldly. "You wish you did, but you don't. You're not my boyfriend. You're not my anything."

"Well. I'm the one who was inside you not three hours ago," he sneered.

She shuddered to hear him speak about it in that nasty tone of voice. "That was… I don't know what that was. I don't know what I'm doing anymore."

His voice was harsh with the chill of his anger. "Oh, I think you know exactly what you're doing."

"Well, if you've got it all figured out…" For once, she didn't stick around to get in the last word. She turned brusquely and marched off down the hall, blind for the blur before her eyes and angry at herself for inviting this sort of abuse. What had she been thinking, allowing Malfoy so close, inside her head and her heart and her body? The answer to that, of course, was simple and all the more infuriating for it: she hadn't been thinking at all. She'd acted on a desire that was too overwhelming to resist, with no care for what happened after. Only now, she did care. She cared more than she wanted to.

She took the long way back to Gryffindor Tower, over back stairs and through abandoned hallways, avoiding everyone and especially Harry until she had control over herself. She hadn't cried in a long time, and she hated it, but there was no stopping the tears or the gasping and gulping that shook her body. In the end, she slipped into a nook behind a large ornamental tapestry of a werewolf howling at the moon and worked to get her breathing under control, muttering insults at Malfoy that went unheard, but relieved some of the pressure regardless.

She still felt sick inside, but when she stepped out of the alcove a while later, she could put on a brave face again for her students, at least for as long as it took to get past them to her long-needed bath and a few hours' rest.

Everything else could wait until tomorrow.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! There will be one more chapter after this plus an epilogue. The story will come to an end soon, and I don't see myself writing much D/G after this so I'd especially appreciate hearing your thoughts on the last few chapters :) Thank you for reading, and enjoy!_

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The night was painfully short. Ginny woke at dawn, snapping out muddled dreams to find herself with a painfully stiff shoulder and a hollow feeling in her belly that she wanted to attribute to a lack of lunch and dinner the previous day, but which in truth felt a lot like heartsickness. She tried to go back to sleep, but tossing and turning didn't help the ache in her arm, so she wrapped her blankets around herself and went to sit on the windowsill, watching the sun rise over the mountains. It was a beautiful sight, but the prospect of a new day only filled her with dread.

Only now that she was deprived of it did she realise how she'd come to depend on her morning routine with Malfoy. They'd share the newspaper and a few choice insults over a cup of tea, and then they'd spend the rest of the day popping in and out of each other's offices as work permitted to keep up the flow of their banter. It had all worked out to everyone's satisfaction as long as they pretended that they didn't _enjoy_ each other's company, and they'd done very well with that.

Now they'd come out and admitted that the reality of their relationship was a little different, and already the solid ground beneath them was shifting like quicksand and Ginny didn't know where to tread anymore. She wanted to be Malfoy's colleague, his friend and, yes, his lover, but she didn't want to have to declare herself; things always seemed so much more complicated than they had to be when they tried to put them into words, as yesterday's argument had shown.

She couldn't even recall what had been said; or she could, but she didn't know _why_ Malfoy would say those things. One moment, they'd been all right, as much as could be anyway given the circumstances, and Malfoy had been about to kiss her. Then there'd been Harry, and that awful smirk on Malfoy's face, and she'd felt betrayed even though she really shouldn't have: she'd said it herself, he wasn't her boyfriend. He owed her nothing, but she'd still come to expect _something_ from him. What it was though, she couldn't even say.

She had an inkling that he felt the same way, wanting something from her that she couldn't give him. He'd made it abundantly clear that he found her lacking, but Ginny had been more shocked by the ferocity of his attack. There'd been no good reason for it, and that made the hurt even worse. If he didn't need a good reason, that meant he was just a prat after all, and Ginny hadn't just foolishly misjudged him, but also their relationship.

As she'd worked with him over all these years, she'd come to accept his prickly personality, appreciated his sharp wit, even. She'd seen Malfoy's disdain as part of a carefully cultivated self-imagine that he'd built for himself, and which he considered easier to maintain than a friendly relationship with the world around him. It was an act, and Ginny had treated it as such, never taking him seriously until she'd rendered him almost powerless in her mind, like an ill-behaved puppy whose bark was worse than his bite. But even though Malfoy might not be dangerous in the ways he liked to pretend, he certainly wasn't harmless. Ginny had walked right into a trap, expecting his defences to be down and instead finding that she'd forgotten to put up her own.

But she had grown tired of fighting, tired of reminding herself daily of all the frustrations and disappointments that made up her battle armour and kept her shielded from the world. Piece by piece, she'd let go of it until she was stripped bare, her heart and soul exposed and vulnerable, hopeful for a new beginning. She'd been a monumental idiot to pretend that she could go on with Malfoy as she had for years with her random flings, that she even _wanted_ to live like that anymore. She didn't; she wanted so much more, and as ever, it seemed to slip through her grasp like smoke, leaving behind nothing but ashes and the smell of burning.

Ginny choked on a moan, and pulled her blankets up to hide her face. If she could catch the tears before they fell, maybe she could pretend she'd never cried. Maybe she could pretend she was fine. Maybe she could pretend she'd never fallen in love with Malfoy.

Malfoy, who only wanted her for the fun of it, and who _really_ had no business being angry at her because _he_ had made a fool of himself – again – in front of Harry Potter. Malfoy, who was spoiled beyond reason and expected anything he wanted served to him on a silver platter with no care for anyone else.

Only she'd believed that he cared when he'd kissed her, when he'd been-

It was just no good. Ginny pulled the blankets more tightly around her, as if covering up her eyes and ears could stop her seeing and listening to the scenes that played before her mind's eye. There had been times of kinship, of easy camaraderie as they raced each other on their brooms or talked game strategies late at night before a Quidditch match. They'd been friends, laughing and arguing and getting drunk together as the years passed and they grew closer almost without noticing, and then there had been the tender moments, furtive looks and stolen kisses in the darkness, and Malfoy looking at her like she was the best thing he'd ever seen even as he smirked and mocked her in that insolent way of his.

It had all been a lie. He liked to think of himself as a master manipulator, and maybe Ginny hadn't given him enough credit. Perhaps she just didn't know him at all.

On that disconcerting thought, she must've fallen asleep after all. When she woke to knocking on her door, her clock said half past eight. She was late for her morning rounds through the dorms, hell, she was late for the first lesson, and the knocking on the door didn't stop. Ginny almost tumbled off the windowsill as she tried to get her numb legs out from under herself. She quickly threw her robes on over her nightgown and hurried to the door, half hoping that Malfoy had come and hating herself for it, but it was just Harry. "Oh – hey."

"Hey. I Flooed in from the office just now." Upon closer inspection, he was slightly sooty. Ginny handed him a clothes brush, and he nodded his thanks as he began to dust himself off. "Kingsley said he talked to Ambrosius Flume about what we found at his shop, and Flume wants to sue the school and Levi and Webber for damages. I thought I'd better let McGonagall know before the news breaks."

Ginny stared at him, aghast. "_Flume_ wants to sue…? So you've proved that it was the kids who-"

"Yes," Harry said impatiently. "There were footprints that match all over the cellar and the secret passage, Levi's missing his badge, and the magic residue we found points to clumsy spellwork. You know, like some fourth-years would do? I couldn't hush this up, Ginny, I'm sorry."

"No, of course not." Hurriedly, she shoved her legs into a pair of leggings and flicked her wand to sort out her hair while she dug through her hamper for her oldest, most comfortable clothes. She could already tell it was going to be a day to dress for practicality. Harry looked embarrassed as she tossed her nightgown over her shoulder and pulled a dress on instead, and Ginny shook her head at him. "No time for modesty, sorry."

"Right." He coughed. "Listen, Ginny, about yesterday-"

"There's no time for that either, okay?" She cast some cleaning charms on herself, and then they were out the door.

"This way, McGonagall said everyone should meet up in the hospital. Malfoy's mother is back, too," Harry said, steering her around a corner when Ginny made to head to McGonagall's office.

"If we'll be busy, I need to tell my students about their lessons-"

"McGonagall told one of your prefects to spread the word, the morning lessons are cancelled," Harry said.

"Oh. Right." Next term, Ginny vowed, she'd be up bright-eyed at dawn; she'd set an alarm, she'd stop lazing about, she'd stay on top of things, dammit, because the way she'd been going on really wasn't working, not in any way.

Harry began again, "Just, about Malfoy-"

The hurt surged up inside anew at the mere mention of his name. "Harry, not to be rude, but it's really none of your business."

"I worry-"

She gritted her teeth. "You don't have to, I can take care of myself."

"I know that, but-"

"But?" she snapped. "You _still_ think I need protecting?"

Harry looked supremely frustrated. "I don't mean that in a bad way, Ginny. I care about you-"

"You wouldn't _worry_ like this about Hermione." Ginny knew he considered his friend more competent than her, but then again, Hermione was more competent than pretty much anybody. Still, it was an old, secret jealousy that was hard to shake, even after all these years.

Harry snorted. "Well, I don't have to, do I, she's married to my best friend-"

"Sorry I can't go kissing your best friend," Ginny said sarcastically, "Seeing as he's my brother."

He sighed deeply. "Look, that's not what I… You don't need my opinion, fine, I get it. And I know you can handle Malfoy, although I'd rather you didn't _handle_ him." He swallowed hard as if with a sour aftertaste. "So don't go taking everything I say the wrong way. I'm just trying to be your friend!"

Ginny wanted to tell him that _he_ should stop saying everything wrong, but what business had she, really, to unleash her emotional turmoil on Harry without giving him any chance of defending himself? It was not his way to argue back and forth like this; only she had become used to it, and now she realised how messed up it really was when she couldn't accept a genuine offer of friendship for what it was. She'd wish that Malfoy was more caring, but then turn around and use Harry's concern for her against him; it wasn't right.

She laid a hand on his arm, stopping him outside the hospital doors. "I'm glad you're here," she tried, and that much was true. "Let's focus on the children, okay? They need you."

"They need _you_," he said. "You're their teacher."

He was right; it was she who needed to be told to focus. Shamefaced, Ginny nodded. "Come on."

The other Heads of House had already come up in the hope of news and were squeezing into Madam Pomfrey's tiny office along with a couple of Aurors Ginny didn't know. She felt a pang of heartache when she saw Malfoy sullenly lurking in the shadows of a medicine cabinet. He studiously ignored Ginny and Harry, and instead looked at his mother, who had returned to the school freshly groomed and was now occupying the only chair. She was showing some notes to the headmistress and looked almost offensively polished next to everyone else. Around her, Ginny only saw grey, tired faces, her colleagues looking just as frazzled as she felt.

"Harry, Ginny," someone murmured close to them, and Ginny half-turned to see Mrs Tonks squeeze Harry's hand in greeting. She slipped past Ginny and slowly made her way to her sister's side amidst polite 'excuse me's. Narcissa Malfoy saw her coming and rose in an almost deferential manner. Together they stood, and even though Mrs Malfoy's beauty, unlike her sisters', was untainted by hatred or grief, the two of them now looked surprisingly alike, united with grim determination in their purpose. "Well then," Narcissa said, and the room quieted down.

"I understand you have some news?" The headmistress, bless her, didn't seem ready to let anyone else assume control of the situation. "Would you care to share with us what you've found?"

Narcissa Malfoy pursed her lips. "We've broken down five different kinds of sweets from Honeydukes into their basic ingredients. There were some surprising results, such as the use of addictive substances, but the amounts are so small, they could never cause the sort of damage we're looking at. As for the rest, it's sugar and cream. There is nothing sinister about any of it." She waved her wand over her charts with an air of finality, and the scrolls rolled themselves up into a neat pile. "We did find something interesting in Professor Singh's cauldron, however. There were traces of belladonna, so perhaps he got poisoned accidentally by something he was brewing-"

"Our Potions master, use poisons? I think not." Madam Pomfrey, who often worked with Singh on medicines and antidotes, was incredulous.

Calmly, Mrs Malfoy said, "Well, if belladonna is what poisoned him, I would suggest a strong solution of Calabar bean as an antidote to cure him-"

"Or kill him," Madam Pomfrey retorted. "Using poison against poison might very well hasten the end."

"It might," Narcissa said, unconcerned. "I was simply suggesting the course of action that has the greatest chance of success."

"Not until we know for sure what is wrong with him," McGonagall decided. "Poppy, could you examine the Potions master again?" Madam Pomfrey didn't have to be asked twice; she hurried off. "But Nightshade is not what the students were poisoned with?" the headmistress asked.

"No," Mrs Tonks said promptly. "They would not be walking and talking, however strangely."

"So where does that leave us?" McGonagall asked impatiently.

"Well, Mr Flume seems innocent enough," Mrs Malfoy said. "Using addictive substances is unfair business practice, to be sure, but I suppose that sort of ingenuity is the mark of a successful entrepreneur."

McGonagall's face was set in deep lines of displeasure. "Is it?" she asked tartly. "Well, be that as it may, you, Madam, are hardly the final authority on potions. We can't be sure-"

"I am confident of my witchcraft, but believe what you like," Mrs Malfoy countered, her blue eyes flashing annoyance. "I'm only trying to help."

Ginny saw Andromeda Tonks grasp her sister's elbow reflexively like she'd collapse if not for the support, but the glare with which she pinned McGonagall was unwavering. "My sister and I are certain of what we've found," Mrs Tonks said. "So on behalf of these children's parents: what are you going to do now, Headmistress?"

McGonagall glanced around at her teachers. Professor Flitwick looked sombre; Professor Sprout shook her head sadly. "Well. If it is not Mr Flume's sweets causing this, we will have to rely on the Ministry to make sense of it." She spotted Harry near the door and nodded to him. "Mr Potter, you and your team will take it from here? There is nothing the rest of us can do right now, I'm afraid."

So dismissed, Professors Flitwick and Sprout left at once to get back to their Houses, offering a word of support and a quiet thanks to Harry in passing. Ginny stayed put; Harry could take over, fine, but she wanted to help. From the corner of her eye, she saw Malfoy still hovering by the medicine cabinet, presumably waiting for his mother, who was talking quietly to McGonagall, or maybe he was waiting for Ginny to leave.

"I'm going to have to talk to him about Levi," Harry told her in an undertone, jerking his head at the two Aurors to leave. "Why don't you go check on Teddy?"

"I want to help, you can't keep me out of this, I'm not one of your underlings-"

"Goddammit, Ginny," he said, so forcefully that she fell silent. "It's not about any of that, Malfoy and I just don't another reason to start fighting. _Please_ find something else to do until I'm done with him, all right?"

She nodded. He'd never been so blunt with her, and she felt stupid for all the things she hadn't considered, for wanting her way without thinking of the bigger picture. She felt stupid today all around.

Harry turned to Malfoy with the air of someone presented with a dose of foul-smelling medicine, wanting to get the unpleasant task over with. "Malfoy, a word?"

Malfoy looked around at Harry as if he thought he'd heard wrong, but surprise quickly gave way to displeasure. His lip curled derisively even as he said, "All right."

Ginny went out into the hospital proper, where the students were still sleeping in their beds. There was a constant sighing on the air of the children's deep, sleepy breaths. It should've been comforting, but it only sounded eerie. More than thirty healthy teens, struck down by an invisible, unfathomable force. It gave Ginny the shivers; she wished there was something she could do.

"Fine." She started when she heard Malfoy's voice behind her. "I'll get on it."

"And hurry up, will you," Harry said, to which Malfoy replied, "Anything to get you out of here sooner." He brushed past Ginny and stalked out. She looked after him unhappily, her first impulse to follow, although she knew that she shouldn't; she wasn't going to run after him anymore.

"Well, I suppose my work here is almost done," Narcissa Malfoy said. Suddenly, she was standing next to Ginny, watching the younger witch with keen eyes. "I think I'll have a cup of tea before I leave. Will I need a password for the Slytherin common room today?"

Ginny resented being tested. "You know we practise an open house policy."

Mrs Malfoy sized Ginny up with one long, haughty look. "Well. I know there have been...developments in the inter-house relationships."

With difficulty, Ginny resisted kicking the woman in the shin. "We get along. Mostly."

"I noticed." The witch drew breath, and then said, "I'd appreciate it if you talked to my son. He gets these awful nosebleeds when he's upset."

Ginny was so surprised, she completely missed the chance to tell Mrs Malfoy to mind her own business. "Upset? Is that what he is?"

"I thought you knew him well? You seemed friendly yesterday," Narcissa observed.

"Yeah, well, that was yesterday," Ginny said waspishly. "Today, I don't want to talk to him. And he doesn't want to talk to me, either, from the looks of it."

But Mrs Malfoy shook her head. "I'd be extremely surprised if you'd actually managed to render Draco silent. I don't think that's possible. Believe me, we've tried."

Ginny sighed, her chest aching all of a sudden like she'd raced a long way and run out of breath shortly before the goal line. "Isn't this what you wanted? I heard you yesterday."

"I want Draco to be happy."

Ginny huffed. "He can't always get his way."

But Mrs Malfoy just smiled. "As far as I'm concerned, he can."

The frustration was building; Ginny could feel it bubbling inside like a boiling cauldron. "He doesn't even care."

Mrs Malfoy actually rolled her eyes. "Don't be daft, Miss Weasley. Surprise me. I beg you."

Ginny gave a fake laugh. "This is what begging looks like?"

"Actually, it is. You couldn't handle my stern voice."

"Try me," Ginny said.

Mrs Malfoy's lips twitched in a manner that seemed extremely familiar. "You are amusing. I suppose that's something."

"I'm so glad you approve," Ginny said as insincerely as she could.

"You will be. Good day, Miss Weasley." And on that cryptic note, Narcissa turned to leave without sparing Ginny another glance.

Ginny stared after her for a few seconds, her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides, trying to work herself up to a decision. She didn't want to talk to Malfoy, and he didn't want to talk to her, but that didn't mean someone didn't need to speak to him. They were dealing with a problem here that was bigger than the two of them, and the facts hadn't changed; Ginny still worried about him. Narcissa was almost through the door when Ginny started after her. "Wait." In the doorway, she snatched the woman's sleeve.

The older witch raised her eyebrows at the way Ginny was grabbing her. "Let me go, please."

"He's not safe," Ginny told her, low. She glanced around. Harry was standing by Teddy's bed now, talking to Mrs Tonks. The two Aurors were pacing between the long rows of beds. The headmistress was looking over Madam Pomfrey's timesheets of potion dosages. Ginny had no particular concern for Narcissa's feelings, but she knew how touchy Malfoy really was, no matter how indifferent he might pretend to be. "Right now, the best case scenario is, he gets sacked. But if this attack is personal, if someone's out to get to him, and they're fine with using the children for that… Who knows what else they might do," Ginny whispered. "Think about it, talk to him, get him to talk to Harry."

She had Narcissa's full attention now. "Why don't you do that?"

"I tried. He didn't want to talk about it. Not to me," Ginny said, chagrined.

"Not to anyone, I'd guess." Narcissa gave a delicate little huff. "That's going to be an unpleasant conversation."

Ginny couldn't help herself, she smiled imagining Malfoy's tantrum. Let his mother suffer it for once. "Probably."

"We don't like speaking of those things," Mrs Malfoy sighed. "And yet, I'm constantly finding myself rehashing the arguments of decades past." She looked to her sister, who was sitting on the edge of Teddy's bed, her back straight but trembling ever so slightly. Harry was standing next to her, awkwardly patting her shoulder. "If someone is coming after Draco, it's my fault and his father's," Narcissa said darkly. "You're right. I will talk to my son."

Ginny shrugged uneasily. "Who knows, this might not even be about him."

"Perhaps it is. Perhaps it isn't." Narcissa glanced at Ginny, and must've found something in her expression that satisfied her. "You care about him."

Ginny felt her cheeks grow warm. She didn't know why she should feel embarrassed about letting her concern for Malfoy show, but under his mother's clear blue gaze, she did. It was something tender, and she wasn't going to explain it to anyone when she could make so little sense of it herself. "Oh, you believe it now?"

"There aren't many people who'd worry about his safety," Narcissa said. "Mind you, I also made some inquiries. I never would've thought Quidditch players were paid so well from the way you choose to present yourself." Her haughty gaze flickered down over Ginny's well-worn dress to the scuffed toes of her flats and back up to meet Ginny's eyes. She smirked at the obvious annoyance she saw there. "Or did you squander your fortune so soon?"

"I may be one quarter Black, but I'm not that stupid," Ginny said dryly.

The smirk vanished. "From rags to riches, the saying goes," Narcissa said through her teeth. "You're not supposed to cling to the rags once you've made it, child."

"I can see you haven't," Ginny retorted.

The older witch chuckled darkly. "I look exactly the way you'd expect me to look. And isn't that comforting?"

Ginny didn't know what to make of the woman, still attractive in her mid-fifties with her blonde hair and patrician features and her jewelry jingling. It took a certain sort of person to flaunt her good fortune so shamelessly even in the face of sickness and despair, but Ginny had also seen Narcissa with an apron on, working down in the dungeons for hours, and the looks of raw sadness that she gave her sister while Mrs Tonks fussed over Teddy. The polished veneer drew attention to the surface and deflected all scrutiny of what lay underneath.

Ginny sighed. It would've been so convenient to just make assumptions. If Narcissa wore her supreme arrogance like a shield, could the same be said for Malfoy? Trying to puzzle out _his_ real feelings for anything, and especially Ginny, was proving all but impossible. She'd thought she'd figured him out, but things were always so much more complicated than they seemed, and Malfoy was physically incapable of ever saying what he really meant, or meaning what he said. That, Ginny thought as she watched Mrs Malfoy's eyes stray to her sister again, turned out to be a family flaw.

"You should go to her," Ginny told the other witch on an impulse. "She doesn't have anyone left in the whole world except for Teddy. We've tried, but we're not her family, and I think that means something to her. She needs you."

For all of a second, Ginny saw Mrs Malfoy look struck, then she assumed the haughty expression that came so easily to her. "That's none of your business, is it?"

"You've made my life your business, I just thought I'd return the favour," Ginny said coolly. "Go to her."

Mrs Malfoy scoffed, but then, to Ginny's surprise, shrugged and said, "All right. I will go to my sister if you'll go and speak with Draco."

Ginny wasn't going to be pressured, especially not by this awful woman, but she knew she would have to face Malfoy sooner or later, and Mrs Malfoy hadn't specified a time. Besides, Ginny felt sorry for Mrs Tonks; this was a worthy cause. "Fine," she said. "If any noses get hexed off, it'll be your fault."

"I'll take full responsibility," Mrs Malfoy said dryly. "Now, excuse me."

Ginny watched her cross the room with sure steps and whisper something to Harry, who still stood next to Mrs Tonks. If Narcissa felt uncertain of herself, it didn't show. Harry looked surprised, but nodded at Narcissa as he stepped back, and she took his place by her sister's side. Mrs Tonks half-turned; her face was splotchy as she wept, but her scowl would've frightened anyone away. Narcissa, though, simply patted her arm, and said something that made Mrs Tonks draw a shuddering breath like she was surfacing from deep water. After a moment, she nodded curtly and turned back to Teddy, her arm linked with her sister's.

"That's…unexpected," Harry commented, stepping up to Ginny.

She nodded. "Better late than never. We should go, give them their privacy."

They went up to Ginny's office, where she dug out a tin of her mother's biscuits from her filing cabinet for a hasty breakfast. Ginny found herself wishing for a cup of Malfoy's tea to wash them down, and quickly pushed away the thought. "What did you bring the reinforcements for?"

"Procedure," Harry sighed. He fell into a chair in front of her desk and eyed the biscuits hopefully. "When the whole story gets out – and it will now, with Flume applying for a court date with the Wizengamot – Kingsley doesn't want it looking like we tried to hush things up."

"It's only been two days, it's perfectly legitimate for Madam Pomfrey to try and find a cure before we get the Ministry involved," Ginny said.

"Yes, it is, but I know some of the parents are making a big stink with the school governors. McGonagall was right to call, this needs to be out of her hands." He scrubbed his palm over his face, blinking his eyes like he hadn't slept much. "If there's one thing I hate about the job, it's the politics."

"I remember." She put the tin in front of him and watched as he began to dig for a gingersnap biscuit. "What did you say to Malfoy?"

"I told him to get in touch with Levi's and Webber's parents, let them know what's going on. I'd imagine they're worried enough over their children, they don't need Flume's complaints sprung on them."

Ginny smiled. "Won't you get in trouble for sharing confidential information about a case?"

"It's the decent thing to do," he said matter-of-factly.

She vowed to remember what a good guy he really was before she snapped at him again. "I'm glad you let them know. And Malfoy. He's good with his kids, he's earned it."

"I suppose," Harry grumbled through a mouthful of biscuits.

"So what now?" Ginny asked.

"Flume's sweets are a dead end, the governors are getting ready to interfere, we have nothing to go on with this case except a few random facts – I think we have no choice. We need more information. We'll have to wake up some of the kids and see what they do when they're not sedated." He didn't look happy at the prospect, and Ginny couldn't say that she was, either.

"That might be dangerous. Who knows what they'll get up to."

"If we wait until they're transferred to St Mungo's, the trail's going to go cold. It started here, it usually ends here," Harry said, and gave a rueful smile. "In my experience, anyway."

Ginny had thought the same thing. She walked around her desk to steal the biscuit tin back from Harry, who was hugging it rather possessively. "We'd better get on with it then."

"Get on with what?" Malfoy asked.

Ginny spun around. By force of habit, he had let himself in without knocking. Suddenly he stood in her office, taking up all of the small room with his height and the sheer size of his personality, and it was too much: all of her anger and hurt and worry came rushing to the forefront, and Ginny felt overwhelmed with it, wanting to slap him even as she wanted to kiss away the frown lines that deepened with every second he stood there, looking at her. He was too close. She took a step back and almost tumbled into Harry's lap.

Malfoy's cold gaze flickered over Ginny's disheveled appearance towards Harry and settled on the biscuit tin. "Got anything tasty there?" he sneered.

Belatedly, Ginny snatched the tin from Harry's hands. Harry looked weary, but unsurprised at the degree of unwarranted hostility that was being directed at him. "Close the door, we need to talk," he told Malfoy, brushing crumbs off Ginny's desk.

"You have _plans_, don't you, Potter? Care to share them with me?" Malfoy snapped.

"I just said I would," Harry remarked, annoyed. "Shut up and sit down."

"Stop telling me what to do," Malfoy shot back, and remained standing just to be contrary.

Sighing, Ginny sat down in her chair, propped her feet up on the desk and began to stuff her mouth with biscuits just to keep herself from speaking up and making a volatile situation worse. She didn't look directly at Malfoy, but from the corner of her eye, she could see him staring at her like he wanted to burn a hole through her skull with his glare.

"Right," Harry said, glancing back and forth between Malfoy and Ginny with some surprise, and not a little satisfaction. "I was just saying that we need to wake up the children."

"No," Malfoy said at once. "Not until we can cure them. Their parents are ready to get me sacked already, I don't need them coming after me for child endangerment-"

"I don't care what happens to you," Harry said bluntly. "This is about the children, and we won't ever be able to cure them if we can't look at what's wrong with them."

"What do you think you'll find out that Madam Pomfrey hasn't?" Malfoy sneered.

Harry's fists clenched on top of Ginny's desk. "I don't know, okay? Maybe it'll come to me when I see it."

"Is that how you usually do it? Wait for a stroke of dumb luck?" Malfoy laughed derisively. "Actually, that explains so much-"

"What's your point?" Harry shot back. "I get stuff done, unlike some."

That shut Malfoy up. He turned brusquely and went to stand by the window in a more dignified pose than he usually assumed to sulk, but pouting nonetheless. Ginny found herself wanting to smile and had to bite down on her lip.

Harry began, "I talked to Hermione-"

"Oh, here we go," Malfoy muttered.

Harry made a rude gesture behind his back. "_Hermione_ saw what we couldn't, of course. You know, why it's only third years and up in the hospital."

Malfoy looked back at him then, surprised. "…Yes?"

"Yes," Harry said with grim satisfaction. "Hogsmeade visits. That's what the first two grades don't have that the older ones do. Ginny, you said the kids had been down to the village weekend before last? And I took Teddy on Saturday."

"Yes," Ginny said, bewildered. "But that was a week ago, and they were all fine until now. And Teddy didn't even go into Honeydukes, did he? The shop was closed." Nothing made sense.

But Harry wasn't deterred. "Maybe it's not Honeydukes. You heard Malfoy's mother, it's not the sweets that did this. Maybe the kids haven't been poisoned at all. That would also explain why it's not wearing off."

Ginny found herself exchanging a startled glance with Malfoy, who seemed to realise this at the same moment she did and quickly looked away again, at Harry. "What are you saying, Potter?"

"I'm saying I want to have a look at them when they're awake," Harry persisted. "I'm not here to do Madam Pomfrey's job, I don't need to. I'm just going to do mine, and I know a curse when I see one-"

"A curse!" Ginny burst out. "You really think someone down in the village would curse students?"

"It wouldn't be the worst thing that's ever happened at Hogwarts, now would it," Harry said, and he looked directly at Malfoy.

Malfoy's jaw clenched tightly, but he nodded. "Fine. Let's go."

"If you get in the way of the investigation, you're out," Harry told him seriously. "I'm handling this. Understood?"

"I said _fine_, Potter, are you blind _and_ deaf?" Malfoy snapped, irritation pushing his voice to a childish pitch that was all too remindful of their school days at Hogwarts, and Ginny thought she saw Harry's lips twitch.

"All right," Harry said, seemingly deciding that Malfoy was no threat to the investigation in the state he was in. "Take it easy, Malfoy, okay?"

The three of them made their way back to the hospital in silence, or at least Harry and Ginny did; Malfoy trailed behind them, keeping up a muttered string of insults that were mostly aimed at Harry, but occasionally Ginny caught what sounded like 'witch', or maybe something that rhymed with it.

"You're loving this, aren't you, Potter? It's just like old times, strutting around, playing hero-"

"Listening to you yammering," Harry said dryly. "Yes, just like old times."

"Would you stop," Ginny said to them both, but mostly to Malfoy. She glanced back at him and met that same burning glare that he hadn't taken off her since he'd walked into her office earlier.

"No one's talking to you, Weasley," he sneered, and actually, miraculously, fell silent in order to prove his point.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as they reentered the hospital. Madam Pomfrey looked over from where she was standing by Professor Singh's bed, casting some diagnostic charms that enveloped the good professor in a golden glow and made him look like a small, chubby statue of some god. "What now?" the matron said, distraught, when Harry strode up to her with purpose.

He quickly related their plan to her and the two Aurors who were still guarding the sleeping children. Madam Pomfrey was not pleased that her patients were to be disturbed, but she acquiesced when Harry reminded her that the headmistress herself had left him in charge.

"Which of the students shall I wake for this experiment?" she sighed, unstoppering a large bottle from which smoke began to uncurl.

"Webber. Ginny said he'd been behaving oddly first," said Harry at once; he seemed pretty confident in his plan, so it was probably best to go along with it, because Harry's hunches could usually be trusted. Still, Ginny couldn't shake the feeling of unease as Madam Pomfrey spooned some of the smoking potion into Webber's mouth.

The boy sat up straight in bed like a spring had been let loose. He blinked his eyes, trying to focus through the haze that seemed to cloud his vision, but the sleepy glaze remained. With edgy movements, he threw off his blanket and climbed out of bed. "C-c-candy!"

The six adults watched him apprehensively as he bumped into the nightstand and almost toppled over the foot of the bed next to his, where another unconscious Slytherin slept, before making for the door. Ginny glanced at Harry. "What now?"

"_Finite Incantatem_," Harry said, pointing his wand at Webber.

"We tried that," Ginny said when nothing happened. "We're not _that_ stupid, you know."

"Sorry, I had to try," Harry said, frustrated. He looked around at Madam Pomfrey. "You found nothing wrong with him at all?"

"No," the matron said with some irritation."He's not _ill_, per se. He's just been…bewitched somehow."

They weren't dealing with some simple enchantment, though; it made Ginny feel sick to her stomach. "But to what purpose?" she asked, hugging her arms around herself.

Harry didn't say anything for a few moments; he just stood, watching Webber amble up to the door and smack right into it.

"H-h-honeydukes!" the boy slurred.

Harry's brow creased. "I have to go."

Ginny found herself exchanging a startled look with Malfoy, who actually forgot to scowl at her. Disbelief had his face hanging slack before he caught himself. "And just where are you going, Potter? I thought you were going to help these kids?"

"I cannot allow the boy to leave," Madam Pomfrey said over the sound of Webber thumping off the door. "Mr Potter, please-"

"I'll take care of him, I swear." Harry flicked his wand so the door opened, and Webber stumbled over the threshold, caught himself and disappeared down the hall.

"Stay here," Harry told the pair of Aurors and, without another word of explanation, set off to follow the boy.

"Oh hell no," Malfoy growled, and hurried after him.

For all their differences, at that moment Ginny was unbelievably glad that Malfoy was there, demanding answers and wanting to be included just like she did. She'd been through this sort of thing with Harry too often, when he rushed off into danger and left her to worry without telling her the first thing about his mission. Being unable to help was one thing, but being purposely excluded made her feel helpless and resentful. She wasn't going to be passed over anymore; Malfoy was right, these were their kids, and she was going to take care of them.

She ran after the two men, only to find them engaged in a slapping match outside the hospital doors. Malfoy was grabbing at Harry, slowing him down, while Harry tried to shove Malfoy off himself.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy, would you stop! I'm going to lose Webber!"

"We're coming with you," Ginny said firmly. She grabbed fistfuls of Malfoy's robes and dragged him back. "Let's go."

Malfoy shrugged off her touch. "I want to know what he's up to."

"I'm _trying_ to do my job!" Harry glanced from Malfoy to Webber, who was almost to the end of the hallway, where it forked and led to two different staircases, one going up, one down. With a reproachful look at Ginny, Harry started after the boy again. "I need to see where he's going."

Malfoy and Ginny fell into step behind him. "I bet you all the Galleons in my vault he's going back to the secret passage," Malfoy told Ginny in an undertone.

She looked at him, surprised. "Are you talking to me?"

"No," Malfoy said shortly, not sparing her a glance. "I've resorted to talking to myself, because that's the only worthwhile conversation I ever get to have."

At any other time, Ginny might have said something about the mental health of people who talked to themselves, but with the previous day's argument still fresh in her memory, she couldn't make a friendly quip; they weren't friends, he'd made it abundantly clear, and she had, in turn, denied him any sort of relevancy in her life. It should have been easy to ignore him as he'd been ignoring her, but Ginny had lied: much as she wished she didn't care about him and what he thought about her, she still did.

The frustration built inside like an itch that demanded to be scratched until she felt like she'd go crazy with it. "Your fault," she muttered, too quietly for Harry to hear.

"And how is that?" Malfoy did look at her then, white-hot fire blazing in his eyes, and Ginny felt her stomach lurch and knew, in this instant, that she was in over her head: they could fight all in good fun or in earnest, but she could never, ever be indifferent to him, and there was nothing lukewarm about Malfoy, either. He could burn with fiery passion or cold rage, but either way, the flames of their combined tempers would consume them.

How had she been so naïve?

"I," she said, and the rest caught in her throat with sudden emotion that choked her up. Her face burning under the hot glare of his anger, she tried again, "The things I said… But _you_ said… Damn it, Malfoy, I-"

"Would you hurry up?" Harry snapped, and Ginny realised that he was almost gone down the stairs; she and Malfoy had slowed down, locked in that baleful stare like two magnets drawing each other in.

Malfoy broke away first. "Would you stop giving me orders!" he bellowed, and took the stairs two at a time in pursuit of Harry and the student.

Ginny rushed after them and almost tripped over a bad step that gave under her foot. She arrived in the downstairs hallway panting, and found that Malfoy had been right: for all his fogginess of mind, Webber had taken the shortest way to the statue of the ugly witch and was now clawing at the stone, trying to get into the secret passage that led into Honeydukes.

Malfoy started forward and seized the boy by the collar of his pyjamas. "Webber, stop this instant!"

"Malfoy, let him go," Harry said.

"Oh no I won't! He's mine to take care of, Potter, this ends here." Malfoy gasped and swore as he tried to stop the boy from hurling himself against the statue with surprising strength. "Come up with a better plan!"

Ginny didn't say that she agreed, but she pointed her wand and Petrified the boy for hopefully the last time. He went rigid in Malfoy's grasp, and Malfoy lowered him to the floor.

"I don't answer to you, Malfoy," Harry said angrily. "Now get out of my way." He raised his wand, presumably to Rennervate Webber, but Malfoy stood in the way.

Ginny didn't think Harry would hesitate to hex Malfoy, and quickly said, "What good will it do, really, to have Webber run off like this? We all know the passage leads into Honeydukes-"

"Yes, but none of this makes any sense." This one time, it was a good thing that Malfoy's presence made Harry bristle: when Harry was annoyed, he became more eloquent. "We're trying to puzzle out the little details up here, but we're not getting anywhere with that and there's got to be a bigger picture. I need Webber to go back to the scene, maybe he'll lead me to the one who cursed him-"

"So you do think this is a curse?" Ginny asked, anxiety twisting her insides into knots. "But what kind? Imperius?"

Harry ran his hands through his hair in agitation, mussing it even more than usual. "If this is a variation of the Imperius curse, it's not a very good one. It's too obvious. The whole point of the curse is to accomplish something without arousing suspicions, isn't it. Anyone can see the kids are not normal. They're like robots."

"Like...?" Malfoy squinted, irritated.

"They're behaving unnaturally. It makes no sense, unless the one who's done this is lousy at curses and did it wrong-"

"Or they simply wanted to cause trouble," Malfoy interjected.

"What for?" Harry asked.

"I don't know, just for fun?" At any other time, senseless aggression might have been something Malfoy could get behind, but now, he looked almost pained with concentration. "Let's just assume someone wanted it to be obvious that something was wrong. Even _you_ realized it's a lousy ruse." He side-eyed Harry disdainfully.

"I suppose it could be a diversion," Harry allowed, frowning. "But from what? Has anything unusual been going on, aside from this?"

Ginny was at a loss. "Nothing I can think of."

"It's too heavy-handed for a diversion. Someone would have to be very stupid-" Malfoy broke off, his mouth hanging half-open with the end of that sentence. "Or very clever. Perhaps we've been looking at this all wrong."

"What are you saying?" Harry asked impatiently.

"Here's what we know." Malfoy said with the air of someone doing them a great favour. "It's got something to do with candy. And assuming that Potter's right," he made a face, "it must have started down in the village, because it's only the children who went to Hogsmeade that have been affected."

"We've been over that." Ginny didn't know what facts Malfoy still hoped to glean from the meagre info they had.

Malfoy ignored her complaint. "It's not the Honeydukes secret ingredient that did this, even though it might look that way at first, what with the traces Professor Singh found and the kids wrecking the shop to feed their habit." Malfoy raised his eyebrows at Ginny and Harry like he'd long expected them to catch on. "On the surface, everything points to Honeydukes. Everything is _meant to_ point us towards Honeydukes. And who would profit from a big scandal involving Honeydukes?"

"Bloody hell," Ginny burst out. "The competition."

"Which is right across the street now," Malfoy concluded with undue satisfaction. "So there, Potter. What do you say now?"

If he expected gratitude, Harry didn't do him the favour; he didn't show if what they'd said had made any difference at all. "Ginny," he said, ignoring Malfoy completely, "take Webber back up to the hospital wing. I'm going to call for backup, and then I'm off to Hogsmeade." He turned brusquely and hurried off, leaving the pair to look after him.

All these years, Ginny thought with helpless anger rising inside, all these years, and nothing had changed since the last time he'd gone on a mission and left her behind.

Harry had looked up from stuffing supplies into his mokeskin pouch. "You can't come. You're not an Auror."

"You can't expect me to always wait around!" Her arm had still been in the sling, but she'd been itching to go out, do something. "I _could_ be an Auror now."

He'd looked pained. "Ginny, please. You're barely recovered. I couldn't focus, knowing you were in danger."

The implications stung. "Yeah, well, it's not always about you!"

"No, it's about those hostages waiting for me to come for them!"

It was then that she'd realized it was useless. _She_ was useless to him, and she had to leave before she began to feel that way about herself, too.

At Hogwarts, she'd found a purpose, however little she'd appreciated it. She felt bad for it now that her students, _her kids_, were lying unconscious in their hospital beds. This time, she couldn't just wait for someone else to save them all, and she certainly wouldn't stay behind; being the good girl had never worked for her, anyway.

Next to her, Malfoy made a low, growling noise of impatience. He elbowed her roughly, having put aside his disdain for her momentarily in favour of his greater animosity towards Harry. "It'll be hours before those Aurors get here. Everyone knows the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is hopelessly bureaucratic."

Ginny nodded slowly. "We can't wait for them."


	9. Chapter 9

Ginny didn't know what they could possibly do, but she couldn't wait around anymore for their problem's cure to come to them. She looked at the unconscious boy on the floor; Webber was safe here for the moment. Her mind made up, she turned and marched off.

"Where do you think you're going?" Malfoy called after her.

"You said it yourself, this needs to end now," she replied, not looking back at him as she quickened her steps.

"How?" She hadn't really expected him to follow; after all that had happened, it seemed entirely unlikely that he'd back her up, but Ginny could hear his footfalls behind her and felt secretly relieved.

"You can't just... Weasley, wait! Potter said-"

"Since when do you care what Harry says?" she snorted.

"Wait." He caught her arm, and the shock of his touch rather than his grip itself abruptly brought her to a stop. "We don't even have a plan."

"We know enough now to pay a visit to the Magical Bonbonnière." Tentatively, she glanced up at him and saw him frowning, but he looked worried more than anything now. It gave her hope. "You figured that out, didn't you."

"I don't even know!" he snapped, livid with frustration. "I was just…thinking aloud, sometimes I just talk-"

"I had noticed," she said, and had to smile even though the amusement was bittersweet and short-lived, like the smallest taste of chocolate only ever tasted like more. "But I think you're right this time."

"Oh, really." That gave Malfoy pause. He shoved his hands into his pockets, drawing in on himself as he regarded her from the relative safety of determined skepticism.

"Yes, really," Ginny insisted. "You can stay if you want, but I'm going. I'm not waiting around for the Aurors."

The prospect of being saved by Harry probably prompted Malfoy into action, but she couldn't help the flutter in her chest as he fell into step beside her again and their arms brushed. Reminding herself that it was neither the time nor the place did nothing to change her reaction to Malfoy's closeness, either. They'd stumbled into this mess of a relationship together, so perhaps it was fitting that they were off running into more trouble on purpose now.

"This way, we'll be quicker," she said, grabbing hold of Malfoy's wrist as they rounded a corner. His fist clenched reflexively, but he didn't shake her off. They took a shortcut to the nearest exit and slipped out a side door by the greenhouses. The morning air washed over her like a cool, soothing balm, and Ginny took a moment to catch her breath. It was only a short way from there to the gates and their Apparation point.

"What now?" Malfoy asked, trying and failing miserably to sound indifferent. Ginny didn't know if the quiver in his voice came from excitement or anxiety; personally, she felt both, for different reasons that had shamefully little to do with the criminal investigation they were about to get mixed up in.

She looked up at Malfoy's face twitching with nerves and suddenly felt the keen need to kiss him just once. For the first time, she allowed herself the feeling, let it spread until her heart began to race and her body tingled with it. They should've made up before they rushed into danger, she thought, but they'd never done anything according to rules or reason. They'd had so many opportunities to be honest with each other, and she'd wasted them all. Perhaps she should seize this moment in lieu of all the ones she'd missed.

She squeezed Malfoy's wrist once before she let him go and drew her wand. "We're going straight to the Magical Bonbonnière," she said, her heart beating in her throat now, almost choking her up, as she stared into his pale eyes and suddenly saw through them like glass, right to the core of him, where cold anger and hurt still couldn't quench the spark of desire as she leaned in closer. "With any luck, we'll have the element of surprise." And she pushed up on her tiptoes to plant a sloppy kiss somewhere within the vicinity of his mouth, and Disapparated before Malfoy could react.

It was only half a second until she appeared in Hogsmeade High Street, but the Apparation had felt rocky. Ginny checked herself quickly for splinched body parts and was somewhat relieved to find that she hadn't left her lips or anything else behind. There was a crack, but she didn't turn to look at Malfoy materialising; she could feel his presence at her back, coming up close behind her as she strode up to the new sweet shop.

The kitschy sales room was abandoned. Ginny couldn't say what she'd expected, but now that they were here, the whole place looked so harmless. The meringue cloud was still floating over a sugar-spun landscape, coconut balls hung in the air like fat snowflakes, and behind the counter, cakes had been set out on a rack to cool down. The place didn't look like the lair of an evil mastermind.

Ginny hesitated, unsure how to proceed. She jumped when she felt Malfoy's hand on her hip nudging her lightly, and glanced back at him to see him nodding towards the counter. From the vantage point of his greater height, he'd noticed an open trap door in the floor behind the register. A flickering lamp was lit in the cellar below.

Her eyes on the trapdoor, Ginny let her shoulders rise and fall once with indecision and felt Malfoy's hand tighten on her hip in response, holding her close to him, holding her back. Her instincts, too, told her that it wasn't a good idea to climb down into the cellar of a potential criminal without knowing what was waiting for them there, but they weren't likely to find out anything worthwhile if they dithered up here. Without stopping to think too much, she pried Malfoy's fingers off herself so she could sneak behind the counter for a closer look, feeling him grab at her uselessly.

She lowered herself to her knees and peered over the edge of the trapdoor into the cellar. It was a dark, dank hole illuminated only by a smoking oil lamp, which hovered in the air and cast a small circle of light. Beyond it there was darkness, and no telling how large the place really was. Ginny saw something gleaming by one of the mossy stone walls and leaned in over the edge to look more closely; the lamp swung slightly in a musty draught, and suddenly she saw, directly below her, Mr Dolce, the proprietor of the Magical Bonbonnière, muttering under his breath and holding a gleaming silver mirror.

Ginny squinted at the sight, wondering what sort of magical ritual this was, or if the man simply had strange grooming habits. Something flickered in and out of sight in the mirror, and then a face appeared, but it wasn't Dolce's reflection; it was a boy, and one Ginny knew: a student of Malfoy's.

"What happened?" Dolce's voice rose suddenly, and Ginny realised that he wasn't talking to himself but to the boy, and the mirror was merely a means for communication. "You were supposed to distract the Aurors."

"I locked them in a broom cupboard." The boy – Hathaway, a seventh-year, Ginny recalled – said. "The matron, too. She saw me."

"Idiot," Dolce spat. "What about Potter?"

Hathaway shrugged. "He left."

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know." The boy blinked his eyes like he was very tired.

"Did you throw out all the Floo powder?" the man demanded.

"I think so," Hathaway said in a flat, bored voice, like he hadn't just effectively cut off the Hogwarts Floo from quick communication with the outside world.

"You're not supposed to think, you're supposed to do it. Go and check, I can't have Potter calling in half the Ministry."

Without another word, the boy vanished from the mirror. Dolce turned in a flourish, reaching for the lamp; the light flared as he touched it, illuminating the cellar from floor to ceiling, and in the sudden brightness, Ginny was momentarily blinded. She blinked rapidly, and before she could react, move back, the man had seen her.

Her first impulse was to slam the trapdoor shut, but she'd barely thought it before the man was halfway up the stairs, suddenly moving fast like a spider coming for its prey. Ginny scrambled back, tripping over the hem of her dress as she tried to climb to her feet and aim her wand at him at the same time, but he was faster.

"Expelliarmus!"

Her wand flew across the room, and then the man was towering over her. Ginny glanced back furtively over her shoulder and realised that Malfoy had vanished. She was caught, wandless and alone.

_Great._

It would've been a good moment to panic, but Ginny didn't _do_ panic. She raised her chin defiantly and said with reckless cheer, "Hello there! Your cakes were so good, I had to come back."

Dolce's eyes narrowed. He pointed his wand right at her heart, and Ginny froze. "Meddlesome girl," he muttered in a strange, manic undertone, "Should've known you were trouble when I saw you at Flume's. Should've taken you out the first time you came in. Where is your friend?"

"What friend?" Ginny asked.

The man moved so quickly that she thought he'd Apparated. Suddenly he was too close, grabbing her by the collar and hauling her to her feet, and the putrid sweetness of chocolate on his breath almost made her gag. He used his wand to tip her head back, and Ginny looked into mad, dark eyes and didn't dare move a muscle. "The Death Eater," he said, and laughed. "What wicked company you keep. Or were you one of them, too?"

No," she gasped indignantly, the man's grip on her collar making it hard to breathe. "What about you? What are you after, then?"

"I'm not a filthy Death Eater!" Dolce snapped. "I've been robbed. And I'll have justice!"

"Robbed?" Ginny asked, trying to keep him engaged; she didn't like the way his wand was pressing into her neck.

"You've met old Mr Flume, haven't you? Haven't you? He and my father were friends, great friends. They worked together, you know. It's all my father's recipes that made Honeydukes famous." The man flung out his arm, and a battered cookbook sprang out of a cupboard behind the counter. It fell open to a greasy page which, in faded handwriting, listed the ingredients for Cauldron Cakes. "Flume took them and ran with it, and we never saw a Knut. I've come to collect on that debt."

"Money? That's what it comes down to?" Ginny burst out.

"We were robbed!" the man shouted, spittle flying everywhere. "Robbed!"

She should probably placate him, but Ginny couldn't; she was too angry. "So take it up with Flume, don't abuse children! What did you do to them?"

"They were poisoned!" Dolce snapped. "Poisoned by Honeydukes' sweets! Flume's secret ingredients-"

"Oh, quit it, will you, we know the kids weren't poisoned," Ginny said recklessly, uncaring that she was probably putting herself in greater danger. "We have Potions experts up at the school-"

Dolce laughed maniacally. "The fat little man? My children took care of him, they had instructions."

"They're not your children," Ginny said, livid.

"They are now," the man crowed. "And they are so obedient too."

Ginny chanced a look at her wand, but it was stuck in a big bowl of jelly all the way across the room. "What did you do to them? Curse them?"

A slap knocked her head back; she saw stars. "Too many questions," Dolce hissed, his mad amusement vanishing as quickly as it had come. "No matter; no matter. You're not leaving," he muttered, "Ever."

When he began to drag her towards the trapdoor, Ginny didn't hesitate. She jammed her elbow into the man's side as hard as she could while making a mad grab for his wand at the same time, but his reach exceeded hers, and even as he wheezed and swore, he managed to point his wand again. The stunning spell hit her squarely in the chest; Ginny fell, and fell, and fell down into the black hole, and just before the darkness enveloped her completely, she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder, and then she knew nothing.

"Ginny."

_The voice of the crowd roared in her ears as she soared high on her broom. A Bludger whistled past her ear, but she only saw the Quaffle. Diving, she came down hard on the opposing Chaser, who was hurtling towards the goal hoops. The wind sang around her as she sped up, something bright flashing at the corner of her eye, the Snitch waiting to be caught, but Ginny was going, going, a single purpose in mind and her eyes on the Quaffle. She tried to call out to her team's Seeker, but the words never made it past her lips; a hard blow to her back knocked the breath out of her, and then she was spiraling down on her broomstick, out of control, down down down-_

"Ginny, come on."

The voice wrapped itself around her like a silk rope, suspending her in mid-air, and Ginny floated weightlessly to the ground, holding on to it like a lifeline. She knew that voice, but she'd never heard it sound so gentle, so warm. She wanted to wrap herself up in it until the hurt went away, until it was all over-

"Come back to me."

It sounded more urgent now, tugging at her, drawing her out. Ginny wanted to resist; groggily, she tried to blink her eyes, but her vision swam. It was dark around her save for a bright blur close by. Her head hurt. Her shoulder was on fire, but she wasn't on the Quidditch pitch. She'd been in the sweet shop, and there'd been that man—

She jerked awake. She was in the cellar, propped awkwardly against a cold stone pillar that held up the crumbling ceiling. The stunning spell had worn off, but she could barely move; Dolce had tied her up good and tight with a coarse rope that chafed on her skin. Malfoy was crouching between her knees, cradling her aching head in his palms, and looked at her with bright eyes that seemed to be alight with fire.

"There you are," he said, and it sounded sort of strangled and odd before he cleared his throat and sneered, "You Gryffindors really are as dumb as they say. All brawn and no brains, god! What were you thinking?"

"Shut up, my head hurts," Ginny groaned.

"I can imagine. Looks like you hit it pretty hard," Malfoy said dispassionately, but his touch was gentle when he examined her forehead.

Ginny winced as he poked at what felt like a rapidly growing bruise. "My shoulder…"

"Yeah." Malfoy barely glanced at her right arm, looking sort of sick. "There's a lot of blood."

"I think he threw me down the stairs with his Stunner." She tried to sit up straighter and gasped as pain shot through her arm right down into her fingertips.

"The owner? So it's he who did all this?" Malfoy frowned.

"Yes. Where did he go? We need to get out of here."

"I tried, I can't get the rope off." Malfoy's hands clenched around strands of her hair. "I'm sorry," he forced out between clenched teeth.

Ginny started with surprise, and he loosened his grip on her hair immediately. "There," he muttered, smoothing back a knotted lock from her forehead, and she wished she had time to follow up on the apology that he seemed to have dragged out painfully from deep within.

"Don't be silly," she said. "Can you heal me?"

Malfoy snorted. "I can try." He waved his wand in circles over her and the bump on her head seemed to draw back in on itself, but her arm still throbbed hotly. "Better?"

"Is that the best you can do?" Perhaps it was a good thing that she could barely move. Ginny gulped in a few deep breaths of musty air, trying to force down the nausea that was creeping up on her. Malfoy would _not_ appreciate it if she threw up all over him as a reward for his best effort.

"I'm not a healer," he said indignantly.

"Obviously," she gasped. "What do you do when there's a dormitory duel?"

"Call Madam Pomfrey. They don't pay me enough to do her job, too." He started rummaging around behind her, muttering incantations, but the rope didn't give even an inch. "It's enchanted, I'm not getting it off easily."

"Find a knife," Ginny suggested. Sometimes the non-magical approach worked best.

Malfoy, of course, scoffed at the idea. "A knife! What are we, Muggles?"

"I wish," she joked feebly. "Then we wouldn't be here right now."

"I'm sure there are evil Muggles who tie people up for no good reason-"

"Oh, he's got reasons." Ginny quickly related the highlights of what she'd seen and heard to Malfoy while he kept tugging at the knot in the rope.

"This is the last time I'm getting mixed up in other people's feuds," Malfoy said angrily. "After this, I'm going to retire and live a life of leisure."

She watched his face scrunch up with frustration as he tore at her bonds. All he did was pull them tighter around Ginny. Her injured arm ached; she'd have to get it set all over again when they got out of here. _If _they got out. "You had your chance to get away," she told Malfoy quietly. "You didn't have to come back."

Malfoy shrugged, not quite looking at her. "What, you thought I'd just left?"

Had she been faithless? No, Ginny thought, feeling him rub some warmth into her cold hands. Even when she'd realised she was alone, she hadn't panicked; she hadn't _really_ believed he'd abandon her. It might be scary to trust Malfoy, but it hadn't proven to be a mistake yet.

"When I realised he'd seen you, I made a strategic withdrawal," Malfoy informed her.

"You could make a strategic withdrawal now, get some help," she suggested, even though the last thing she wanted was for him to leave her alone and in pain in this dank cellar.

"By 'help', you mean Potter, don't you," he said, and when he glanced at her, she saw that blazing look in his eyes once more, like he was burning from the inside out.

"I mean help. Anyone. We need to get a message up to the school, alert the Ministry-"

"Do you really want me to go?" Malfoy cut in sharply.

She couldn't look at him and say the words; instead, she stared very hard at the silver clasp on his robes, two serpents curling around each other in a circle that had neither beginning nor end. He was still wearing his bloody tie, a snappy dresser even in a hostage situation, and Ginny wanted to laugh, but instead felt tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. What was one more lie now on top of all the others? "I want you to go," she said to Malfoy's tie.

For a few long, tense moments, she felt his eyes on her, burning her like fire. "Liar," he said hoarsely, and then he kissed her.

It was the absolute worst time and place to be kissed; Ginny thought it, but she was powerless to resist the demanding slant of his mouth, the closeness of his body pressing into hers that could almost make her forget she was restrained by anything other than his arms around her and the irresistible force of their desire. Nothing else had ever mattered when they came together like this; it was raw and pure and completely genuine, their own truth uncovered through the desperation of hurt and fear, and Ginny reveled in it, reckless, until-

"Well, isn't that sweet," a gleeful voice said.

Malfoy whirled around, but it was too late: his wand was ripped from his hand by an invisible force, and Dolce caught it.

Ginny wanted to put her hands over her face and sigh: she and Malfoy really were the world's greatest fools; they deserved each other. But she was tied up, and then she realised that Malfoy had risen to stand in front of her, sort of hiding her behind the expansive fabric of his robes, or perhaps to actually have a go at their attacker, and she forgot to think in favour of sheer panic that he would choose this moment to act uncharacteristically brave.

Dolce seemed to find all of this terribly amusing. "I thought you'd show up," he cackled. "I've seen you two together."

If everyone up to and including an evil madman saw that there was something special going on between them, maybe that was a sign of the universe to open her eyes and start looking, because clearly, Ginny's reality didn't line up with that of anyone else. She fixated Malfoy's back, trying to puzzle out what he'd do, trying to send a subliminal message not to do anything stupid and reckless, but this was Malfoy, and one of the things she found so terribly exciting about him was that he was always so predictable in his ways, until he was not.

"So what now?" Malfoy asked, and Ginny heard the quaver in his voice, but he stood tall, hiding her away, and didn't move an inch.

"As the Muggles say: revenge is a dish best served sweet," Dolce said with devious satisfaction. Ginny thought that saying made no sense at all. "You're just in time to make yourself useful."

"Oh yeah?" Malfoy said insolently, like he truly didn't care about the man's anger, or the fact that he had Malfoy's wand and they were defenceless. Only Ginny could see his hands trembling ever so slightly before he clenched them into fists. "Are you going to put Imperius on us, too?"

Dolce didn't deny it now; he just laughed. "Well, let's see. I could send you back up to the castle to tell the Aurors that you found nothing. Do you think they'd believe you?" Ginny couldn't see the man, but from the tone of his voice, she pictured him stroking an imaginary beard. "Or I could just lock you up in here and wait for Potter to come looking. I think his word would carry more weight with the Ministry than that of a Death Eater, don't you?"

"Oh, come off your sugar high," Malfoy said, and he sounded deeply unimpressed.

Ginny could barely move, but she had just enough leverage to nudge him with her toe. "Shut up! Just, stop!"

"Oh, honestly!" Malfoy snapped. "I survived the soliloquies of the Dark Lord. Can you imagine him as a house guest? This is nothing!"

Ginny suspected that most of Malfoy's bravado stemmed from barely contained hysteria, but it was still kind of impressive. Their attacker paused for a moment, and Ginny imagined him sizing up Malfoy, who really didn't do well under pressure, and who was bound to crack any second now and do something stupid.

"This is nothing?" Dolce hissed, and he didn't sound amused now at all. "I'll show you, I'll show you! I will have a candy empire, and all the children will love me!"

It happened fast: Ginny blinked her eyes, and Malfoy was down by her feet in a body bind, fully immobilised save for his mouth, which, as anyone who knew Malfoy could've told their captor, was an unwise omission.

Malfoy spat curses at the man; in the absence of a wand, they did nothing except relieve Malfoy's anger, which was probably a good thing because Ginny wouldn't have put it past him to spontaneously combust out of sheer spite. His face was bright pink as Dolce came swaggering over to grab a fistful of Ginny's hair.

"Don't touch her, you bastard, you-"

"Of course I could just kill you now," Dolce said in that oddly pleasant voice that made Ginny's skin crawl. She went very still, and her reaction did what none of her words could have: Malfoy abruptly fell silent.

"We'll see. We'll see," the man sing-songed. "For now you can stay here. I'm sorry; I interrupted your rendezvous." A swish of his wand lifted Malfoy up and positioned him next to Ginny; another rope shot from his wandtip and wrapped itself around them both. Doubly tied, Ginny gasped for air and wondered if this situation could possibly get any worse, and just how mad Harry would be when he found them.

"Make yourself at home," their captor grinned, and disappeared up the ladder into the shop. The heavy door fell closed, and they were well and truly trapped. At least he'd left the small lamp, so they didn't have to sit in darkness.

"Great. Just great." Ginny sighed. "You just couldn't help yourself, could you. Bloody hell, Malfoy."

"How's this my fault, you went and got yourself taken!" he snapped.

"You kissed me!" she shot back. "And at the worst possible moment, too!"

"You kissed me back!"

"I...!" Ginny bit her lip and winced; she hadn't noticed how bruised it was while they'd kissed. She grimaced. He wasn't wrong about her. "You make me do strange things."

"Oh, please! No one could ever make you do anything you didn't want to!" he said reproachfully, and he wasn't wrong about that, either. "You really are a liar."

She hadn't told him any lie that she hadn't also told herself, but explaining that to him would only make things more complicated. Malfoy liked his world black and white, and her truth was all shades in between. It had been in every hex that had missed its target and between all the lines she'd ever spoken; she'd breathed it into him whenever they'd kissed, but he hadn't understood her then, or maybe he hadn't wanted to. What did he care, really, how she felt about him? He only cared about the pleasure she could give him while simultaneously offending Harry.

Annoyed, she said, "What do you even want from me, Malfoy?"

"Give me a chance here! I mean, I know I can obviously never compete with Potter," he scoffed, "But you've dated that great bore Dean Thomas. Twice. Really now? I don't even mean that much to you?"

She cared more about him than she cared about Dean; that was the whole problem. "Since when did you want to _date_?"

She actually almost managed to make it sound like an outrageous idea, but Malfoy was watching her closely, and her face must've given away something incongruous with her tone. "Maybe I want to now," he said, and quirked an eyebrow in that mocking way of his that she'd never, ever been able to resist. "Or are you too scared, Weasley?"

At that moment, her skin prickling under that intent look of his and her face flooding with colour, Ginny wished fervently for the murderous lunatic to come back and kill her already. Malfoy, annoyance personified, _would_ choose this moment to get in touch with his feelings. "Can we talk about this when we get out of here?"

"No," he said quite cheerfully. "I'm not going to get another chance to be tied up with you so you can't run off."

It was inevitable; she was going to die here with Malfoy jabbering. Groaning, Ginny slumped over, feeling him warm and solid beside her, and wished their captor could have had the decency to tie them up separately. "This isn't how I imagined it."

"What, being tied up? Do you fantasise about that often?"

She would've elbowed him if she'd had the room, but as it was, Ginny had to resort to pinching the inside of his arm. Malfoy squealed in a suitably ridiculous manner. "Dying."

She'd resigned herself to dying on the battlefield when she was sixteen; that hadn't happened, but she hadn't really lived any sort of purposeful life until she'd returned to Hogwarts. It had been the right challenge for her, however much she'd resented it at first: the students needed her, and after her accident had turned her life upside down, Ginny had needed the routine, the structure, knowing what to do and what to expect day in, day out. And then, once she'd recovered her spirit, there'd been Malfoy to make sure things never got too predictable. She'd come to depend on his being there, but now he reminded her daily of all the things she shouldn't want and secretly craved.

It could've been all right if he wanted the same things out of life that she did, but who knew how Malfoy really felt about anything.

The thought brought back the frustration, made the magic that ran through her blood like a current crash and roll like waves against the prison walls of her body. She had no wand, but she wasn't powerless. Ginny breathed deeply, trying to draw that energy to the surface from deep within.

"What are you doing?" Malfoy asked with some alarm. If he could feel the surge, perhaps what she was doing was working.

"I'm not going to die here!" Ginny ground out through her teeth. "I have plans!"

"What plans?"

She was surprised herself to find a fully-formed answer inside her, like it had been waiting for her to come looking all along. "I want to play Quidditch again. I don't care if I'm not good enough to be a pro anymore, I can join the amateur league, but I'm going to play and I'm going to _enjoy it_. And that goes for my goddamn job, too."

He was uncharacteristically quiet, so she went on between deep breaths, "I'm tired of going out with people I don't care about. I'm tired of the break-ups and all _that_ drama. And I've had enough sexual frustration to last me until forever. I quit. It's spinsterhood from here on out, I can be McGonagall, fine, but I'm going to be alone until, unless-" She broke off, gasping, feeling the magic thrum in time with the rapid beats of her heart. She'd said too much.

"Unless what?" Malfoy demanded, and he sounded inexplicably angry all of a sudden.

Ginny shrugged, remembering too late how badly her shoulder hurt. "I want a home to go back to over the holidays. I want some peace and quiet. And I want a family. I spent years convincing myself that it wasn't right for me and I didn't want it at all, but it is and I do."

"So Potter wins again." Malfoy's voice was sharp like a blade that cut deep with all the intent of a last, deadly blow. "Well, it's going to make for a _lovely_ story. The Quidditch star and the saviour of the wizarding world, her one true love, reunited-"

"God, that's still all you care about, isn't it? Getting one over Harry?" Ginny had tried to brace herself for this, but she wasn't prepared for how much it hurt. She'd thought she wanted Malfoy to be honest, but now she wished she could abuse him and have him insult her in turn, always saying the opposite of what they really meant, and never had to hear what he really thought of her. "He isn't my _one true love_, but I'm starting to think he's yours!"

Malfoy didn't immediately reply, and he remained quiet for so long that Ginny was beginning to think she'd unearthed an unexpected truth. But then he asked, in a much quieter voice, "What are you even talking about?"

Thrown off balance, she shot back, "What are _you_ talking about, you complete tool?"

"You said you wanted to settle down, have a family-"

"I know what I said!"

"But you're not talking about Potter?"

Ginny had to laugh, this conversation was so ridiculous. "Harry's married to his job. And my parents have practically adopted him, so it's not like he doesn't have family anymore. He doesn't really need more than that." She swallowed hard with the bitterness that rose like bile inside, not at the memories of the past, but the frustration of the present. Had she kept up her pretences so well that he knew her so little? Perhaps; she'd never wanted him to know, after all, how she felt about him, how much she cared. "I spent half my life waiting around for him, and then, even when we were together, we were never actually _together_ long enough for me to get used to him being there. I stopped missing him a long time ago." Suddenly, she felt nervous in spite of all she'd just told him with righteous feeling. "I thought you knew that."

"I didn't," Malfoy said with some surprise, and then he let out a long sigh like he'd just found the last piece of a puzzle that now made for a perfect picture. "Dammit, witch, I thought... Ginny-"

She flinched like he'd prodded at one of her wounds. "You don't get to call me that."

"Why not?"

"Because we're not close, I just thought we were friends, but you only want to keep shagging me-"

"I do want to keep shagging you," he said, and let out a laugh that only enraged her further. "But it's not just that."

"No?" Ginny snapped. "Funny, I heard what you said to your mother-"

"What did you hear? Only that I wouldn't let her decide the when and how and _who_ of my love life."

"So what about the Greengrasses?"

He rolled his eyes. "What about the bloody Greengrasses? I don't care about them, that's just my mother-"

She had to take a moment to digest this. "But you said you weren't looking for anything serious."

"_I said_ I wasn't looking to replicate my parents' bloody perfect marriage. They've been best friends since they were in school. Over forty years, and they're so freakishly in tune, they always agree on everything. Do you know what that does to a kid? I _had_ to grow up contrary just to shake things up a little at home-"

"You're not making any sense!" Ginny exclaimed. If their captor, upstairs, could hear them, he would surely be happy: he'd inflicted the perfect torment. Trying to have a serious conversation with Malfoy would drive anyone loopy.

Malfoy tilted his head, leaning in towards her as closely as he could while being tied up and still paralysed from the neck down. "I want to wake up and have every day be exciting. That's all I ever really wanted, but whatever I tried, it was never _right_, I kept messing it up, until I came back to Hogwarts." He drew a deep breath. "Until you."

Ginny tried several times, but her brain had short-circuited in the aftermath of her injury, or maybe it was that a declaration of affection by Malfoy had the same effect as severe head trauma: he had a way of bludgeoning her with his emotions. All she got out was an extremely eloquent, "What?"

"You're so fucking obtuse sometimes," he snapped. "What's so hard to understand?"

She wished she could've whacked him over the head a few times to sort out the word jumble that was clearly happening inside his head. "Everything you just said!"

"Do I have to spell it out?" Malfoy sneered. "They don't call _me _ 'Love-them-and-leave-them Weasley'."

Ginny gasped. "You made that up!"

"All right, yeah, I did. But it's not that far-fetched."

She was torn between laughing hysterically and screaming at him. "You're crazy."

"A little bit, probably, yeah. We've been over this, it's genetic, I can't help it. Don't really want to, either. Not anymore." She felt him breathe quickly in and out a few times, and then a warm hand wrapped around hers, tightening almost to the point of pain as he said, "I'm just as crazy for you as all the poor fools that came before me. But unlike them, I'm pretty sure I can keep up with you. I've had practice. So if it's all the same to you, I'll stick around. That's _my_ plan."

Ginny felt like her heart had stopped, because when it began to slam inside her chest, the feeling was new and unexpected, unlike anything she knew. "The body bind wore off," she said stupidly, squeezing his hand with some desperation.

"Did you actually hear what I just said, you silly bint?"

She looked down at their entwined fingers, Malfoy holding her like he'd never let go. Why was she surprised? He was nothing if not tenacious. It wasn't him, she thought, it had been her all along: she just hadn't believed this would ever happen to her again. She still didn't quite believe it, but oh, she wanted to. "We'd bring down the castle together, Malfoy."

"And it'll be in a blaze of glory," he said fondly. "Your point?"

"I…" And Ginny realised that she had no point, and he was right. Alone, they were two rocks, cold and hard and unyielding, but when they connected, they were fire, white-hot and bright and all-consuming. It was always meant to be this way. "All right," she said, wondering if it could be as simple as that. She chanced a look at his face, her cheeks warming under that heated gaze of his, and knew that _yes, yes_, it could be. "But I still don't want to _date_." It was a necessary caveat, because come to think of it, she really hated dating: it was just a lot of tiptoeing around each other, and they'd done enough of that.

It was time to try something new.

"Good," Malfoy said with a cheer that was entirely out of place in their dank cellar. "That way, I won't have to tell my father I'm _dating_ a Weasley. He'd never let me hear the end of it. Let's just carry on, everything can stay the same, except..."

"Yeah," Ginny said, and it was settled: this would be the moment when they finally agreed on something.

And to think, it had only been twenty years.

They were silent for a minute, as if they'd both run a long way and needed to catch their breath. "Now, where were we?" Malfoy said, and it took her a moment to figure out the tone of his voice, for she'd heard it so rarely: it was low and warm and sort of strangled with the emotion he tried and failed to contain, and she realised he sounded happy. "Right. The murderous lunatic. Where did he go, I need to get out of here, I have things to do."

"Like what?"

"Oh, you'll see," he promised, and Ginny knew _that_ wicked tone of voice. He tried to wriggle closer, and she actually shivered. Malfoy chuckled. "Can you get to the knot?"

"No. There's no way we're getting these ropes off without magic." She tried to feel around again inside her mind for the energy to break free of their bonds, but it was hard to calm down and focus. "I was trying to summon enough power, maybe if we tried together-"

"Wandless magic never works like that," Malfoy said, ever the optimist.

It was almost refreshing to know that he hadn't lost his characteristic negativity. "When was the last time you tried? This is nothing, I almost blew the roof off our house once when I was a kid-"

"Yeah, and my screaming broke the 12th century stained glass windows in my father's study. But spontaneous bursts of magic are one thing, breaking out of here without one of us getting hurt-"

"Don't tell me you don't still know how to throw an epic tantrum."

"Not just now," he smiled, and Ginny felt herself blushing stupidly and wished she could kiss him just so he'd shut up before she turned into mush.

"Malfoy, we're in a cellar and we're quite likely to be killed, this isn't the time to be sweet!" Every minute they did not try to break free made it likelier for the man upstairs to remember them and come back down. Ginny didn't want to be tied up and helpless when he did; that'd be making things too easy. Once again she tried to reach inside, to the source of the power that lay coiled and ready like a spring, waiting to be let loose.

"It's not going to work," Malfoy commented dryly, which at least proved that he could feel the ebb and flow of magic she was trying to control.

"Where's your pride?" she gasped. "Show me the power of your _ancient bloodline_."

"That sounds so wrong," he muttered, but he grasped her hand more tightly, and suddenly she felt her skin start prickling where he touched her, the answering force building as if far away, an oncoming storm in the distance. Malfoy's magic was as subtle as his temper, which was to say, not at all: it surged up with might, all at once, a power that could easily be destructive if he meant for it to be. Ginny absorbed the feeling, knowing only now how well they were matched.

Still, even the considerable force of their combined wills wasn't enough; shivers raced over her skin, but other than that, nothing happened, no matter how hard Ginny tried to focus the magic on the bonds that held them. Finally, with an indelicate grunt, she gave up. Her head throbbed. "Okay. Any other ideas?"

For once, Malfoy didn't waste breath on the 'I told you so's. "When he comes back down, we'll need to make him untie us, get to his wand-"

The trapdoor opened, and he abruptly broke off. With bated breath, they waited for their captor to reappear, but the one who stuck his head through the door wasn't Dolce; it was Harry.

"Thought I'd find you here," he said matter-of-factly, and swung down into the cellar holding on to the doorframe, not bothering with the stairs. "Ginny, are you okay? You look awful."

"Thanks," Ginny said. "I'm fine, just get these ropes off, my arm is killing me!"

"Potter!" Malfoy was so relieved, he actually forgot to feign disdain. "Where have you been? I thought this was what you lived for?"

Harry prodded at the ropes with his wand, which of course did nothing. "What is?"

"Hunting down dangerous madmen." Malfoy had never looked happier to see Harry. "He's out to kill us!"

Harry looked like he was developing a headache. "Can't blame him. You're not supposed to be here, at least you could've waited for backup from my squad-"

"Well, where is it then?" Malfoy asked dryly. "Oh, you didn't wait, either?"

Harry grumbled something rude as he worked on the rope, and suddenly Ginny felt her bonds loosening.

"How did you get it off?" Malfoy asked, surprised.

"Swiss army knife." Harry let it click shut and slipped it back into his pocket. "Hermione gave it to me for my birthday, she'll be happy it came in ha-, Stupefy!"

For a second, Ginny thought he'd Stunned Malfoy, but when the flash of a hex shot past her, she realised that their attacker had returned, and Harry's reflexes were much, much better than hers or Malfoy's.

Still, he hadn't managed to disarm Dolce on the first attempt; "Damn," Harry gasped as another hex shot down through the open trapdoor. It missed them by miles; Dolce had retreated and was firing blindly, but he still had the advantage: they were trapped in the cellar.

Malfoy seized Harry's sleeve. "Apparate us out!"

Harry grabbed on to Ginny and raised his wand, wearing a look of concentration, but then nothing happened. "It's not working. Must've put a ward over the cellar."

Sparks were showering down through the trapdoor, preventing any attempt of climbing up. Upstairs, their attacker was laughing maniacally, shouting insults along with his spells. He would tire himself out, keeping up a constant string of hexes, but it could take a while.

Ginny climbed to her feet, feeling every muscle and bone in her body rebel against the movement. Her arm throbbed; she was probably quite seriously injured, but there was no time to give in to pain as a new wave of the attack came down on them.

"Find cover," Harry snapped, and fired back in the direction of the trapdoor.

Malfoy seized Ginny's hand and dragged her deeper into the darkness of the cellar. It seemed to consist only of this one room; Ginny felt around the walls but couldn't find a door or passage. She glanced back at Harry, and saw that he was meeting their attacker blow for blow now: Dolce had apparently grown impatient and was coming down the stairs, raining down sparks on Harry.

Ginny clamped down on a surge of fear. "We have to help him!"

"How? Without wands?" Unceremoniously, Malfoy shoved her into the farthest corner and wrapped her up in his black robes, shrouding them both in darkness.

Bright bursts of colour illuminated the cellar as the two men battled; spots danced before Ginny's eyes, but she didn't dare blink for fear of being caught unawares again. Dolce, though, seemed to have eyes only for Harry now.

"Harry Potter!" he screamed, and his voice broke with glee. "Harry Potter! Are you growing tired yet? I can make it stop right now, right now... _Imperio_!"

After the explosive force of the previous spells, the curse seemed deceptively simple in the absence of light or colour. It came forth almost in secret and sneaked up on Harry, who did not even try to block it; he dove behind the pillar to which Ginny and Malfoy had been tied, and waited out Dolce's approach.

"Scared?" the man gloated. "You won't stand in my way, no one will! I will have my revenge! _Imperio_!"

Harry had stuck his head out from behind the pillar, and the force of the curse hit him fully. He swayed back and forth for a moment, and Dolce watched him with devious fascination. Ginny didn't hesitate: she broke free of Malfoy's embrace and used their captor's momentary distraction to run at him. She knocked hard into the man, feeling every nerve in her body scream out on impact. Behind her, Malfoy was yelling, but she couldn't understand him for the roar in her ears.

Thrown off balance, Dolce staggered back, and Harry, who'd never let some pesky Unforgivable stop him, raised his wand.

"Give up; it's over," he told the man, but he had misjudged Dolce's mad zeal.

"Never! _Reducto_!" their attacker roared, and the recoil from the spell was strong enough to throw Ginny off him. The blast hit the pillar; it toppled for a moment before it came crashing down, bringing half the ceiling with it, and this time, Harry wasn't quick enough. A large chunk of debris hit him over the head and brought him down. He lay half buried under crumbled stone and dust, unmoving, and Ginny only had seconds to process it all: Harry was down, and he'd let go of his wand, and now it lay at her feet.

She went for it.

"_Crucio!_" Dolce screamed.

It was on pure reflex that she got her arm up to deflect the curse. It rebounded and crashed into the wall, bits of stone raining down on them, and she used the momentary chaos to dive behind the fallen pillar for cover. She was the one to defend them all, and her wand arm, her pitching arm that was too weak to even throw a Quaffle at the best of times and now felt damaged beyond repair, was twitching uncontrollably from the force of the blast.

All she had was her anger to carry her through, but oh, it could be enough. Ginny looked around wildly. She couldn't see Malfoy in the darkness; Harry was unconscious, blood trickling down his forehead, but she had no time to check on him: another curse blasted a hole into the floor next to her. Her arm trembled. She drew a snuffling breath, choked up with the dust and fear and overwhelming fury.

This was _not_ how her story was going to end.

She spun, giving up her cover to parry the next blow. The curse rebounded with force, pain zipping sharply from Ginny's wrist right up into her shoulder. Somewhere to her right, she heard Malfoy noisily break cover, distracting their opponent for the half-second Ginny needed to position herself. Her arm shook; she raised it at the same moment that Dolce took aim at Malfoy, and screamed "_Stupefy!_"

A bright red jet of light burst from her wand and hit the man in the chest. He stumbled back a few steps, fell over, and then he was still.

Ginny staggered back a few steps, and then she felt Malfoy's arms around her.

"This settles it, Weasley; you're the crazy one." His voice sounded far away, but that was just the blood rushing in her ears: he was close, and then he was enfolding her in his dusty robes, holding her so tightly that she could feel his heartbeat racing under her cheek. Shuddering, Ginny clung to him. She closed her eyes against the chaos around her and willed herself to relax. Fear had had her wound tightly, not just over the past hour, but for years. Only now did she realise what it felt like to be freed of it. She drew back to look up at Malfoy, who was smiling like he'd never been more pleased with her. Ginny knew what that felt like; she'd never been more pleased with herself, either.

"Can we go now?" he asked. "As basements go, this really is dismal. _My_ dungeon has luxury accommodations. I've been wanting to show you my bedroom."

With some effort, Ginny drew back and felt instantly bereft. Now that the dust was settling, the battlefield became only a cellar again: damp, cold, unpleasant. She was trembling from head to foot. "Wait – Harry." She went to check on him at last and, to her relief, found that he only had a few scrapes and bruises. The wound on his head had already stopped bleeding; it closed easily after a quick healing spell.

"Oh, right. The saviour of the Wizarding World. He did a lot of good." Malfoy sounded smug. "We saved him this time."

Ginny looked up from Rennervating Harry, who stirred slowly. "Well, if we hadn't rushed into a confrontation..."

"Shh." Malfoy waved his hands dismissively. "That's not how the story is going to go when we tell it to our grandchildren."

"No?" She didn't quite look at him, but she could hear that he was smiling. "So how's the story going to go?"

He stepped up to their unconscious attacker and prodded him with the tip of a shoe before retrieving their wands from his pocket. Malfoy used his to bind their opponent. "You did it. You single-handedly finished the culprit."

"You're not usually so modest."

"No one would believe I did it, anyway. Take the credit." His feet entered her field of vision, and then she felt his hands at her good shoulder, drawing her up to a standing position so he could put his arms around her again. "I'll expect you to thank me later for my help. Again and again and again."

Ginny shook her head at him. He was smirking, but it was a smile that lit up his face and crinkled his eyes at the corners under the slightly dusty fringe of his hair. He glowed, pink-faced, with elation, and looked terribly, terribly fond of her.

"That sounds fair," she nodded.

"You know me, being fair is my greatest concern."

Giggles bubbled up inside until she felt lightheaded with glee. "Draco, shut up."

"And what happens if I don't?" he smirked.

This time, it was she who kissed him, bringing a sweet end to their argument for the first, but definitely not the last time. She hoped he'd never stop challenging her; he was the only one who'd ever been able to match her blow for blow, but now, it wasn't even the fighting she looked forward to so much as the making up.

Breathless and smiling, she drew back, tugging at his hand. "Come on. Let's go home."

Harry chose this moment to raise his head off the floor. He looked at Ginny and Malfoy together and took in the situation with surprising acuity. "Am I dead? Is this hell?"

"No, Potter," Draco smirked. "No, not at all."


	10. Chapter 10

_This is the last chapter! Thank you to everyone who's been reading and reviewing! I hope you'll enjoy this last bit!_

* * *

Epilogue

_Three months later_

"I think I'm going to throw up." Perhaps Ron thought if he kept saying that, someone would eventually care about his righteous indignation.

"Well, I told you not to have triple helpings of pudding, didn't I," Hermione said with no little satisfaction.

"It's not the _pudding_," said Ron, who'd always been an emotional eater. He cast a dark look at the man who lounged against the sink, sniggering into one of Molly Weasley's good tea cups. "You had to bring him, did you," Ron said scornfully to his sister. "The prank's getting old, Ginny, it's been three months, enough is enough."

"Don't be silly, Ron, you don't want your only sister to become an old maid, do you?" Ginny asked cheerfully. She cooed at her two-month-old nephew, Hugo, who was clutching fistfuls of her hair and grinning toothlessly at her. "I was _this close_ to becoming Auntie Muriel. You should be happy for me."

"Delighted," Ron growled. Draco hadn't stopped laughing in Ron's face since he and Ginny had dropped in on the Weasleys' Sunday lunch and Ron had almost choked to death on his Brussels sprouts. After that, they'd made it through pudding without further incident though, so Ginny considered their visit to the Burrow a smashing success.

She handed the baby back to Hermione and crossed the room to steal a sip from Draco's teacup. He tucked Ginny under his arm when she sidled up to him, and dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

Ron was turning a lovely shade of puce.

"Ron, the baby needs changing," Hermione suggested.

"Is it my turn again? Oh." The shit literally kept piling up for poor Ron. Ginny bit back her giggles until Ron had taken the baby to the bathroom to change.

"I'm sorry," she told Hermione, laughing. "Maybe we shouldn't have come by unannounced, it was a spur of the moment thing, and I really wanted to see Hugo again-"

"No, no, it's all right." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ronald just needs to grow up and learn to cope."

"Never thought we'd agree on anything, Granger, but there you go," Draco said.

"It's Mrs Granger-Weasley, unless you'd like to start calling me Hermione," she told him. "And to make things clear, _Draco_, I get to make fun of my husband; you don't."

The two of them stared at each other for a long, tense moment, until Draco snorted and actually dropped his gaze. "Fair enough."

"As long as we understand each other," Hermione said with dignity, and went to assist her husband when Ron started yelling about a diaper explosion.

Little feet came trampling through, Ron and Hermione's toddler, Rose, chasing her older cousins Victoire, Dominique and Louis through the kitchen. They ran outside, laughing, followed by Molly Weasley, who came huffing and puffing down the stairs. "Don't you go running through my flower beds! Louis, put your shoes back on!" She looked at Ginny and Draco, wringing her hands even as she hurried after the children. "Oh, Ginny, I wish you'd come by on a quieter day, we haven't had a minute to sit down and talk-"

"That's okay, mum." Ginny had purposefully picked a day when her mother babysat, and she wasn't sorry. It had been no secret that she and Draco were shacking up at her place - the gossip rags wouldn't stop writing about it - but it was one thing for her parents to know, and another thing entirely for her to bring him along for a visit. A bit of distraction by the children couldn't hurt, although his first impression had surely suffered under all the chaos. For the most part, he'd been happy enough though, especially after Molly had served up her homemade scones with tea.

"We'll make plans, perhaps dad and I can visit you in Hogsmeade next week," Molly said, slipping on her garden clogs by the door. "It's such a pity that you're going back to school already-" The door fell shut behind her. Outside, they could hear her shout, "Oh, Harry, how lovely to see you! I kept a plate warm for you in the oven."

"Oh, it's Potter. How nice," Draco said, but his attempts at sarcasm had fallen pretty flat lately.

"You're losing your touch," Ginny told him, grinning. "You sound all friendly and genuine."

He shuddered. "I'm out of practice. It's time we went back to Hogwarts. I need to punish some students."

Harry, of course, looked less than thrilled to see Ginny with Draco, and blocking the way to his lunch plate no less, when he stepped through the door, but he managed a halfway polite nod. "Hey. How's it going, Ginny?"

"Oh, splendid," Draco answered instead, and though he was laying it on thick, there was nothing insincere about his cheer for once. "Never better."

Harry, too, seemed to recognise this, even as he said, "I didn't ask you, Malfoy." He glanced back and forth between Draco and Ginny, but if he saw anything that displeased him, it was only how ridiculously Ginny was glowing, red-cheeked and beaming. "You just can't help it, can you," he told her, jerking his head in Draco's direction as if he was a gaudy new piece of decoration.

"No," she said. "Save it, I've already been through this with Ron," and Harry knew her well enough to respect that stern tone of voice.

He gave a gamely shrug. "Well, if anyone's going to smack some sense into him-"

"I'm standing right here, Potter," Draco said indignantly.

"It's just the truth," Harry said.

Ginny laughed. "Should I feel flattered?"

"Sure," Harry said, and then he actually cracked a grin. "Personally, I can't wait to see you whip him into shape. Can I have my lunch now?"

Ginny didn't need his blessing, but it would've been too much to pretend that she didn't care what he thought of her. He'd been her first love, but only now, from the vantage point of a new life, could she look back at what had been with fondness. They were friends. Nothing more, and nothing less.

"Lunch? That's all you care about?" came the voice of Ron, who really had no room to talk. "Harry! That's bollocks!"

"It's just your son," Hermione said calmly. "Here, look, I've shown you a hundred times. This is the spell to stop the diaper leaking..."

Ginny shoved Draco aside gently to clear the way to Harry's plate in the oven, and he tucked into his lunch like a starving man, Molly's rosemary potatoes seemingly reconciling him with the world's wrongs. "Teddy's been spending some time with me while his grandmother's been busy," he told Ginny happily between bites. "It's nice, the house isn't so quiet with him there. I think Mrs Tonks won't mind if I set up a room for him at the new place."

"You're really selling the house?" Ginny sat down across from him at the table, feeling Draco hover behind her. Harry glanced at Draco and rolled his eyes, and she bit back a laugh.

"Yeah, it's too big for one, and I can't have Molly coming over to clean every week. I've looked at a few nice places in Diagon Alley," Harry said.

"That's great," Ginny said sincerely.

"The house? You mean the one in Grimmauld Place?" Draco was appalled. "Potter, please tell me you're not really planning to sell the homestead of countless generations of Blacks to some random nobody?"

Harry looked wounded. "Sirius would've understood."

Draco made a gesture that indicated what he thought about Sirius. "He shouldn't have broken the entail in the first place, the house was always meant to go to the next male in line-"

"Well, that's just too bad, isn't it," Harry said.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "You do realise that you're passing over Ted, too, don't you?"

That gave Harry pause. "I... Mrs Tonks wouldn't want it for him, I don't think. I've offered her money-"

"And insulted her horribly in the process, I'm sure," Draco snorted. He actually sat down at the kitchen table with Harry and Ginny, apparently deeming this topic important enough to grace Harry with his company. "She and Ted are going to be provided for now, what with the new shop and all, but still. If I can't have the house, fine, give it to them, it's the next best thing."

Harry growled something through his potatoes that might've been grudging assent.

"What's going on with our case, Harry?" Ginny asked, steering the conversation back to less controversial matters.

"The trial date's set for Dolce – well, his real name is Smith. And I got the results back from the laboratory, Professor Singh really was poisoned with Nightshade like his mother said." He nodded towards Malfoy. "One of the kids confessed to doing it under the influence of Imperius, an Eric Hathaway?"

"Hathaway!" Malfoy sucked a breath in through his teeth. "Oh, I'm going to _have words_-"

"You can't, he left school," Ginny reminded him.

"It wasn't his fault," Harry continued. "Oh, and a special task force is now looking into the use of additives in food and drink at Honeydukes. Anyway, I wrote up my final report today. Case closed."

"Where are our medals? Our commendations from the Minister of Magic for finishing the culprit?" Draco asked.

"Ginny got seriously hurt, Malfoy," Harry said as if Draco hadn't been helping her over the past few months while she was on the mend. "You're lucky you didn't get killed. If anything like this ever happens again – and we're talking about Hogwarts, so who knows – don't get mixed up in it."

"You're not the boss of me," Draco said.

"No, that's McGonagall, and I'm sure she'd agree with me," Harry said dryly.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Bloody Gryffindors, always sticking together."

Ginny smacked him playfully, satisfied when he winced. Her arm was better than it had been in years after it had been properly set and healed again; she packed a punch now. It would be fun to be coaching the Quidditch teams in the new school year. "I thought we did a pretty good job of demonstrating house unity. Don't you agree, Harry?"

Harry sighed like it pained him to draw breath. Behind the bathroom door, Ron could be heard murmuring something rude, and then Hermione's voice going, "Shh!" Ginny bit back a grin.

Harry and Draco stared at each other for a few long moments; then Harry cleared his throat. "I suppose you did all right."

"Your condescension warms my heart, Potter." Draco watched Harry closely as if he expected Harry to feint and sock him any second now.

"Don't let it go to your head, it's big enough," Harry said, straight-faced; reflexively, Draco retorted, "Like you're one to talk," and for the two of them, that probably counted as friendly conversation.

"A girl might get jealous," Ginny said later, as they walked hand in hand up the grassy hill to their Apparation point. It was getting late in the afternoon, and the sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over rustling crops. A summery haze enveloped the land like a warm embrace. She glanced sideways at Draco and felt full to bursting with good cheer. "I know you only mock because you care."

"No, that only applies to you. I couldn't care less about anyone else," he said, and laughed when Ginny stopped right then and there to pull him close and thoroughly snog him.

"Can we go now?" he asked with a long-suffering sigh upon breaking apart and discovering that they were standing in horse dung. "Between your brother, the rude boor, and this, I think I've had enough of country life for the day."

He was still muttering complaints under his breath when they materialised in Diagon Alley, right in front of the lavishly decorated storefront of the newly-opened Cepheus Black And Sons Apothecary. It was getting late, but customers were still crowding the salesroom, drawn in by the large posters that promised new, effective love potions and a steep discount on frog eggs, _Only today!_.

Inside, they found almost empty shelves. Behind the register, Narcissa Malfoy was personally observing as the manager counted out gold coins in stacks of ten. She looked up and smiled at her son. "You came, how nice."

"We couldn't miss the grand opening, could we." Draco leaned back with his elbows braced against the edge of the counter and watched the sales assistants rush in and out of the storage room at the back like busy bees.

"Looks like it's been a good day for selling potions," Ginny observed. After Narcissa had realised that meddling in her son's relationship was useless, she'd thrown her considerable energy and resources into this new project, which seemed entirely more likely to succeed than her attempts to set Draco up with a woman who was not Ginny.

"It has been. Andromeda flooed, apparently the turnout in the Hogsmeade branch was just as good. I'm quite pleased," Narcissa nodded, and though her eyes flickered over Ginny's simple dress in that arrogant way of hers, she didn't seem to find fault with anything today. "That is a very pretty necklace you're wearing, Ginevra."

Ginny touched the ruby pendant at her throat and couldn't resist. "It's just a little something that I bought for myself."

"It's lovely." Narcissa regarded her pile of gold with pride. "I must say, I'm enjoying this."

"Granddad Abraxas is probably spinning in his grave," Draco grinned.

"I hope so," Narcissa said to appalled looks from the manager. She glared at the man, and he coughed uncomfortably and excused himself. "If anyone ever deserved a restless afterlife, it's my dear father-in-law."

"Mother, the issue of putting Malfoy money towards a Black business aside, you are aware that it makes no sense to invest in two competing apothecaries?" Draco said, but he was smiling like he didn't mind the potential loss of Galleons overmuch.

"This isn't just a business, it's a family tradition." Narcissa took up a quill and parchment and began to draw up a table of the day's earnings. Here and there, she put down a comment for the manager, who was supposedly to be left in charge of the day-to-day business, but would likely be nothing more than Narcissa's personal slave. Ginny suspected that Mrs Malfoy would keep a close eye on this brainchild of hers, just like she did on her real baby. "And if the ancestors rise from their graves over this… Well, I suppose it'll keep your father from getting bored while I'm busy."

Draco laughed. "May we take you out for a celebratory drink?"

"You may not." They all turned to see the crowd parting as Lucius Malfoy came striding up to the counter. He didn't appear quite as intimidating as Ginny remembered him from her childhood, white-haired and aged as he was, but his haughty face looked forbidding enough yet to make people scatter. Still, after a recent encounter that had been extremely embarrassing for everyone involved, Ginny only felt the overwhelming urge to laugh whenever she saw the man. She gave Draco a pointed look, but he was carefully avoiding her eyes.

"I seem to recall that I was promised I wouldn't be dining alone," Mr Malfoy said, watching his wife performing a few Arithmantic spells that had the numbers in her tables add themselves to a nice sum at the bottom of the page.

"Lucius," she said calmly. "I wasn't expecting you. You said you didn't want to come out today to witness the 'pandemonium'." She looked up at him, smiling. "Were you curious after all?"

"Perhaps." He glanced around at the empty shelves and the coins Narcissa was now sweeping into a large pouch. "It looks like you've got things under control."

"Did you doubt it?" she sniffed.

"No," he said, and the disdainful expression he wore softened ever so slightly. "I've come to fetch you; I thought the occasion called for more than just dinner at home."

Narcissa's face lit up with surprise, remindful of an expression that Ginny had learned to cherish on Draco, for it wasn't one that he, or his mother, wore often. "Did you now?"

"Are you almost finished? I don't like to rub elbows with the plebs."

"I'll just need a minute to transfigure my dress." Narcissa disappeared into the backroom with no undue haste, lest anyone think she was excited, but the way she snapped orders at the poor salesgirls could almost be called cheery.

"You know, Father, I've been thinking," Draco said, "We should sell our shares in Slug and Jiggers Apothecary. It's really not wise to bet against mother."

Lucius's lips twitched. "Come by the Manor next week; we'll go over the portfolio."

"We'll floo before we drop by," Ginny piped up, sniggering into her fist as both Malfoy men glared at her.

"Please do," was all Draco's father deigned to say, but the indignant twist of his mouth was gratifying.

"We'll be off," Draco said to his mother, who had returned in an elaborate evening gown transfigured from her smart business robes. He leaned over the counter to kiss her cheek. "Have fun, Mum."

"I intend to," she said, and her smile was nothing short of frightening.

"You're disgusting," Draco said, squeezing Ginny's hand hard as they walked down Diagon Alley towards her flat.

"Sorry," she lied, laughing. "Your mother seemed happy."

"She did. My father was unconvinced about this project of hers, but I think it's great," Draco said, his frown giving way to a much more cheerful expression.

"Don't tell me you've developed a taste for honest work?" Ginny teased.

"Nah. But I'm all for my mother keeping too busy to pay much attention to me." He looked at Ginny and smiled. "Your place?"

Ginny had bought the flat years ago with her Quidditch money. It had seemed like a good investment, but she'd hardly ever stayed there and it had had that bare, unoccupied feel about it until they'd moved in at the beginning of this summer. She'd practised her healing wand arm charming the wallpaper in the living room different colours until she and Draco could agree on a pale grey, and her swishes and flicks were as practised and easy as they'd once been. Gradually, she'd begun to decorate, he'd 'forgotten' more and more of his things, and suddenly they'd found themselves developing a routine of fighting for the newspaper over breakfast in bed, strolling through London in the afternoon, and getting to know each other in all new, pleasurable ways at night. It was a pretty good arrangement, Ginny had decided; one that she could get used to.

"Sounds good," she said, and leaned in to whisper, "I can't wait to be alone with you."

Draco grinned. "Why's that?"

"Well." Ginny licked her lips, feeling him tense ever so slightly as she pressed closer to his side and whispered, "We'd be the talk of the town if I ripped your clothes off right here like I want to."

He still wasn't used to an honest compliment, and his surprise made her want to tell him over and over again; it was fun to see Draco flustered. She watched colour rise in his pale cheeks as he struggled to retain wit enough for a belated repartee.

If she'd known this was the way to render him speechless, well; perhaps they would've come together sooner. She could've used her allure on him like she had on other men to smooth over all the deficiencies of their relationship, and it would've been epic and world-shaking, but then they wouldn't find themselves here now, her hand in his and Draco smiling like he'd learned to only for her. Every day they'd spent circling each other, figuring each other out, belonged to the peculiar relationship that now carried them through even when they weren't busy shagging each other's brains out. Ginny enjoyed it, much as she liked shagging him, too.

She drew breath to voice that thought, but he found her lips with his before she could say a word, and she realised she didn't have to: he knew how she felt, because he felt the same.

"You're playing unfairly," she complained as they broke apart, breathless and smiling. "I was about to finish you."

"You couldn't hope to finish me, Weasley," he scoffed. "I just allow you to seduce me."

What was that about a pity snog, again? Feeling very much like laughing, Ginny said, "Malfoy, you're so good to me, you really know how to make a woman feel appreciated-"

He was kissing her again, and Ginny giggled against his lips, and shut up. They stood in the middle of Diagon Alley, not noticing the crowd that swayed around them. "Come on," he murmured, kissing at a sensitive spot just below her ear. "I'll make you feel appreciated."

They all but ran back to the house and up the stairs to the flat, which was at the top of the building. It was a bright, spacious place with a roof garden and a lovely view over London, but they had eyes only for each other now as they stumbled over the threshold and knocked over the coat rack. Ginny's heel caught in the abundant fabric of one of Draco's travelling cloaks, and they tumbled down into a pile of coats together.

"Oof!" Ginny made, and laughed. He'd caught himself above her, careful not to rest any weight on her right shoulder, and she laid her hands on his chest, smiling up at him. "How'd we end up here, huh?"

Draco shrugged as if that was a stupid question and the answer was obvious. "You fell and dragged me down with you."

"No, you fell."

"No, _you._"

She smiled. A case could be made for either or both of them falling, head over heels, over the carpet just now and for each other, but how it had happened, she still couldn't say. It just had, in the same way that the stars just happened to align and the sun happened to rise in the mornings, nothing less than the very purpose of the universe. "It's our last night," she said softly, pushing him back so she could climb to her feet and take his hand. "Let's make it count."

Later, they lay in bed together in a sweaty heap, curled around each other on top of rumpled sheets. "Do you think it's going to get boring?" Draco asked. "You know, after a year or ten?"

Ginny felt weightless, her body humming with the aftershocks of pleasure, moving warm and smooth and slick as she raised her head to look at him. She, too, had wondered whether too much harmony would kill the excitement of their togetherness; they couldn't argue while they were kissing, and they'd been kissing a lot even by her standards, but so far, the secret thrill she felt whenever they were together hadn't worn off.

"Time's got nothing to do with it, think of your parents," she said, fully aware that she was being evil.

Groaning, Draco buried his face in her hair, as if hiding from reality would make it, in turn, hide from him. "Let's never drop by their place again unexpectedly."

"Oh, I think it's nice that they're still having fun, I hope my parents-"

"Stop! _Obliviate_ isn't good enough, I don't need those mental images!" He raised his head to let her witness the full effect of his pout.

Ginny laughed long and hard, and her amusement must've been contagious, for his scowl gave way to a slow smile as he watched her. "You're evil, witch. No one cares what I suffer."

"I care. But I'm still going to laugh at you," she grinned. She twisted around until she was sprawled on top of him, and outlined the sharp angles of his face with her fingertips. "Can we just stay like this?"

"Sure; we're both rich. Well, I'm rich, you're fairly well off." He pressed a kiss to her neck, and Ginny shivered. "Actually, we don't ever have to leave the house. We could keep doing this forever."

"You don't really want that," she gasped, even as she clung to him.

"I don't know. Right now, it seems like a great idea."

"Who'd take care of the students?"

"Weasley, would you stop being sensible?" he whined. "I can dream, can't I."

She laughed. "Think of all the sneaking around we'll be doing at the school. It'll be exciting."

"I suppose Hogwarts needs its scandal _du jour_." The thought seemed to reconcile him with the idea.

Ginny nodded. "We can meet up in the middle between your dungeon and my tower. I know a cosy broom cupboard up on the third floor-"

"You're not much of a romantic, are you."

"We fit, then."

"Yeah, I suppose."

He could smirk and profess to only shallow feelings, but when he kissed her, it was with a tenderness that betrayed him. His hands flexed at her hips, drawing her in more closely before he rolled them over to wrap himself protectively around her, and Ginny petted the damp hair at the nape of his neck, knowing that he craved the closeness not because he thought her fragile, but because he was.

She smiled. She had expected some possessiveness from him; what she hadn't expected was that she'd enjoy the mad zeal of his adoration. Draco never did anything in half measure, and his love burned bright and hot with the fire of a thousand suns, just like his hatred once had. Either one of them could be all-consuming, and it would've terrified her if those feelings hadn't been rooted in the cold, hard truth of their shared history, in all their failures and the hardships they'd inflicted on each other. They'd seen each other at their worst, and they'd still ended up here.

It might not be romantic, Ginny thought, but it was more beautiful than a fairytale ending, because it was real.

"Hey, I..." Draco began, the words muffled as he buried his face in her hair. Ginny felt his hot cheek pressing against her neck and waited him out, having recently learned that there was a time for patience just as there was a time to push and challenge him. "I've had worse summers," he said, snapping his teeth at her neck on the same breath.

Ginny took that to mean he was happy. "Me too," she smiled. She'd have a bruise where he was sucking her skin between his teeth, but she could always cover up the mark with a charm; or not.

"I think not-dating is working out well for us," he murmured, and then, in a rush like he was scared he'd run out of time or maybe courage, "I think we should not-date indefinitely."

She pretended to hesitate only just long enough to keep things interesting. "Okay," she said simply, and turned her head to kiss the frown off his face. "D'you want a sandwich?"

"Cucumber," said Draco, who suddenly looked extremely pleased.

"Make some tea, will you." Ginny detached herself just long enough to crawl to the foot of the bed and wrap herself in her dressing gown, but he held on to her again as she padded into the kitchen to prepare a snack.

"I suppose you _are_ going to need me when we take the kids on that student exchange to Beauxbatons over Easter," he said smugly. "Your French is lousy."

That was shamefully true. Ginny could already see herself in some eatery in Paris, being served frog legs because she'd be at the mercy of Draco's translations. The trip was a disaster waiting to happen, which of course meant that he was looking forward to it like a child to Christmas.

Ginny glanced back at him fussily preparing a pot of tea and couldn't for the life of her imagine that she'd ever get tired of this.

"What is this thing?" he complained as the teapot slipped through his grasp, hopping off across the table as Ginny had charmed it to do that morning, which had resulted in a lot of whining and subsequent snogging, because that was the only way to shut Draco up. "Tea is no laughing matter, Weasley. Cut it out!"

Laughing, she pointed her wand at the teapot to lift the charm. "Bring your own if you don't like this one."

"Bring my teapot?" he asked, not looking up at her as he poured steaming water from the tip of his wand. "Are you asking me to move in?"

She set a knife to chopping up the cucumber, her eyes on Draco. "I thought you lived here?"

He glanced up through the fringe of his hair and saw her smiling at him. "I don't recall an official invitation."

"Well, you're practically homeless now that your parents have kicked you out-"

At that, he set aside the teapot and came over to trap her against the table, his arms braced on either side of her. "My parents didn't kick me out, I left them to their licentious doings."

Ginny giggled. "It'd be inhumane not to take you in."

"Charity? Is that what this is?" Sneakily, he slipped one hand between her legs under her robe, slowly stroking up along her inner thigh.

Ginny bit the inside of her cheek. "Yes," she gasped, clenching her legs around his hand to keep it in place, _right there_. "Charity. That's it."

"I never saw the point," he said conversationally even as he continued to touch her with maddening surety. "But you make it look worthwhile."

"It's all about the joy of giving," Ginny choked out.

Chuckling, he pulled away, but only so he could lift her up to sit on the table. "I'm ready to give," he drawled, nudging her knees apart. "I'll give you whatever you want."

_Where to start?_ - Ginny still wasn't sure, but it was beginning to get clearer. Oh, yes.


End file.
